Whispered Fire
by Quwinntessa Starber
Summary: ADULT! Complete! Set after Spike kidnaps Willow and tries to force her to do the spell. Willow's lost the will to live; Spike finds her, and Willow's true stamina test begins.
1. No Tequila Sunrise For Me, Thanks

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Chapter 1:

No Tequila Sunrise for me thanks.

The park was cold, but Willow didn't notice; she was too busy trying to drain the last drops from the bottle of Tequila. She pouted when she realized there was no more and threw the bottle against the jungle-gym and watched it shatter into a million pieces and tinkle down to rest in the sand. She giggled uncontrollably, her breath coming in short little gasps. 

She had been out here for nearly an hour, but since their last battle with the bad guys nothing major had happened so Willow wasn't really afraid for her life. Which made her giggles turn to sobs. **_Why is it that whenever someone wants to see a vampire, there's never one around?!_**

Finally her voice rose to meet the accusation in her mind. "Where are all the God damned Vampires!!!" Realizing what she was saying, her hands flew to her mouth to cover it. Then the giggles started all over again. 

She was rolling on the ground uncontrollably when Spike came out to greet her. Willow was a disheveled mess. Grass stains covered her pastel clothing, her hair had come out of its swept back style, and her make-up ran in long trails that cascaded down her face. All in all she didn't look too appetizing to him. "Pet, what the hell are you doing?"

At the sound of Spike's deeply accented and masculine voice, Willow stopped her laughing and stared directly at him. Finally, after what seemed like minutes Willow broke eye contact with the British vampire and looked down at the ground. 

Spike was sure this was the little redhead's cue to begin to weep like her namesake, crying 'Please don't kill me Mr. Spike.' But she didn't.

Instead, Willow picked herself up off the ground and approached the unmoving vampire. Her eyes became tangled in his as he watched her move towards him with a slow and slightly staggering--and yet determined--walk. When she was standing right in front of him, she closed her bright green eyes and drew a deep breath. Then she exhaled her wrath.

"Do you want to know what happened tonight?" She paused and waited for his answer. Spike for his part was slightly taken aback. Here was the Slayer's little girly friend, the mousy one that liked computers more than real people. He had always thought she was insignificant, until he had needed her to do a spell for him. Spike didn't remember much of that night, so many months ago, but he did remember the way her cheeks had flushed and yet paled at the same time when he had threatened to kill her and her boyfriend the mega idiot. She had been so beautiful in that moment, that he had actually considered taking her right there and then; but she had been resourceful, bringing his mind back to the spell at hand and he had forgotten her under-defined beauty.

But she was still supposed to be the good, quiet one. So how come she was outside after midnight, on a school night, in the middle of the park, drinking some heavy booze, and screaming at the top of her lungs for vampires. Not to mention she had just walked up to her mortal enemy and wanted to hold a tea time conversation with him. Needless to say, Spike was slightly intrigue. **_Why the bloody hell not? She's going to be the main course tonight anyway, so why not cater to her now? Besides, I want to know what turned the mouse into the cat. _** "Alright, Ducks, I bite, what happened tonight?"

Willow tilted her head just so, exposing her long and graceful neck to Spike's dark eyes. He licked his lips involuntarily. Then she smiled at him and he was too stunned by her seemingly lack of common sense to make heads or tails of her. When she spoke, it was like she was reliving the entire thing over again, only this time taking him with her.

"We decided to go Bronzing tonight. Buffy thought it would do me some good, since I haven't been doing well lately. When we got there at eight, it was packed; what else is there to do on a school night after all? So we waded through the crowds of sweaty people and sat at our usually table. 

"I picked the table a long time ago, when Jesse was still alive. I told him that there was no way I was going sit at the table next to the speakers for the next four years." She paused then and looked up at Spike, seeming to consider something, "Did you know Jesse?" 

It was an innocent question, but Spike had no idea where it came from. Before he could say anything, she was shaking her head. "No I guess not, he was vamped before you even showed up. He was a great guy. He would never have let Oz treat me the way he did tonight; not ever!" The venom in her voice was so unlike the petite Slayerette, that Spike was once again startled. **_Damn, I can't believe after two hundred years of living, this little red head has managed to startle me more than anyone else. I must be losing my edge._**

But Willow was continuing. "I know I started it." She cast her eyes away from him and looked down at the ground again. Her voice became a tiny whisper. "I kissed Xander and that started this whole thing. I know I messed things up for me and Oz, but I really wanted to make things right. I really wanted to get him to forgive me. I mean I tried everything; and I do mean everything!" Her face suddenly flooded with color which Spike--with his predator night-vision--could easily see. "But it didn't work.

"I knew his band was playing tonight. So I watched him all night from the table. I watched as he moved his lips silently to the words Devon was singing so as to keep up. I was so excited when the band took a break. I picked up my jacket, told Buffy I wasn't feeling good so I was going to catch a cab home, and headed for the bathroom to get all prettied up for Oz. I was only in the bathroom for a few minutes. Then I slipped through the crowd and made for the backstage area. I knew where everything was from when Oz had let be go back with him…when we were still together.

"But when I got back there I wanted to surprise him, you know, get him excited to see me so maybe we could do more than the usual 'Hi Oz!', 'Willow I need space,' thing. So I threw open the door to the band set up area and there he was like always, sitting on one of the old speakers that the Bronze keeps back there as chairs. Only this time, he wasn't alone like usual. No this time he had that--that blond bimbo on his lap! And do you know what they were doing?" Spike shook his head, but he already knew the answer; he had be a teenage boy once after all. "They were playing Smoochies!"

A little sob escaped Willow's lips at the sound of the now hated word. She brought her hands up and covered her face as she sobbed quietly into her palms. Spike was still so amazed that she wasn't running away from him in fear that he still hadn't done a thing. The sobs violently and yet silently wracked her body, causing her to tremble uncontrollably. 

Cocking an eyebrow at the red head in confusion, he watched without moving as her knees gave out and her body descended to the waiting ground. With her on the ground and not in any position to get away, Spike took a second to look around the area where he was standing. It was then that sudden realization dawned on him as to why this little mousy red head had no fear when she looked into his eyes. Three shattered bottles lay at the bottom of a twisted metal climbing device. From the labels he could tell two were vodka, and one was tequila. He silently wondered how this little girl—obviously underage—had gotten the bottles. But he never had the chance to ask the question, the red head was standing up.

Willow teetered on the edge of standing fully erect or falling completely over, but she somehow managed to correct herself. Black lines flowed down her face, reminding Spike of the sad clowns at the carnival he'd seen in his youth. She looked suddenly so strange, with her dark eye make-up smudging her eyes into an almost gothic style. Spike was beginning to like the change in this little firecracker.

Her mouth opened to say something and then abruptly shut as if someone had smacked her in the face. Eyes really seeing him for the first time, she looked like she was about to scream. **_Here we go. I bloody well knew we were going to get to this part sooner or later._** But he was disappointed. Instead of screaming, Willow began to giggle. And then her giggling turned into full-fledged laughter, until she was holding her sides and gasping. Spike was expecting her to start rolling on the ground again, like when he'd first sighted her this evening. 

Then just as suddenly as it had begun, Willow stopped laughing, wiped the tears from her eyes and regarded him quizzically.

Shifting slightly under the red head's gaze, Spike seemed almost nervous. Suddenly, Willow reached up and touched his nose. That thrust Spike out of his shyness real fast. "Just what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" He had no idea whether this girl was going to laugh herself to death or startle him to a second one. He was also beginning to wonder why he hadn't killed her yet. He didn't have an answer.

Willow had withdrawn her hand nearly the moment she had touched his face and now she seemed to be struggling to answer his question. A question with a question. "Why haven't you killed me yet?" 

Spike wasn't sure if she had read his mind or just had a death wish tonight. "Do you want me to kill you?"

He'd expected her to shake her head 'No' and to back away from him. But instead she looked right into his eyes once more and said in a loud voice. "Why the hell do you think I've been waiting out here all night!?"

Once again Spike was dumbfounded. Was this girl really asking to die? "Wait, let me get this straight, Pet. You've been waiting for me to get here so I could kill you? What the bloody hell did this Oz guy do to you?" He didn't know why he asked the last question, it wasn't like he cared, but he did expect an answer. He got it.

Willow stepped back and threw her arms out from her sides into a cross fashion and began to spin. She suddenly reminded Spike of one of the first nights he and Dru had gone hunting. Dru had wailed like a banshee after the kill and had spun in fast, tight circles until he'd caught her around the waist and brought her into his embrace. 

But the girl in front of him was human, not an insane monster, and Spike was beginning to wonder, whether or not he should just kill her to end her misery or go after her ex-boyfriend. The sound of Willow screaming at the top of her lungs brought his senses back to reality.

"HE HURT ME!!! HE HURT ME!!! HE HURT ME!!! HE HURT ME!!! HE HUR--" He didn't know why he'd done it, but the moment he realized what the tiny girl was screaming he had grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into his arms and against his chest. 

He felt her wrap her arms around him to clasp together behind his back. Her head rested against his chest and he could feel her warm breath touch his cold and long dead skin. Suddenly, her knees gave out and he was supporting her, holding her like he'd never done with a human he wasn't feeding from. 

She didn't utter a sound for the longest time and Spike was beginning to wonder what had happened to the little firecracker who had been so intent on bring the wrath of the Slayer down on his head. When she finally spoke however, it was a whisper which even his sensitive ears had to lean in to hear. "When I'm dead, please don't leave my body in my house like Angel did to Giles. I couldn't bare it if my parents had to find me."

Maybe it was her voice, or maybe the fact that the moonlight overhead was striking her hair just so, but Spike lifted her chin with is long, slim fingers and brought her eyes to look for a long moment into his. "I promise, Pet."

She nodded once and then allowed the vampire to tip her head slightly to the left. Then she closed her eyes and waited.

Bringing his human face down to her beautiful neck, Spike laid light kisses around the area before his face changed and he sunk his dagger like teeth into her jugular. 

Willow moaned under the feel of her life slowly slipping away from her body and opened her eyes to look up at the moon. Suddenly, there was one more thing she had to do. Drawing in a shaky breath, she let it out in a whisper of death. "Thank you, Spike." And then silently, she let her world fall black with death.


	2. Did Someone Forget the DEAD Part!

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Chapter 2:

Did someone forget the _dead _part?

The deep room swayed with the firelight of a hundred candles. Willow's eyes watched the shadows crawl towards her and then recede. It was like watching a living thing move with ethereal beauty. Slowly, she lifted her head and looked at the whole of her surroundings. 

She was lain out on a large four poster bed, which supported a black comforter and blood red satin sheets neatly contrasting over the lip. Farther away from the comfortable bed was a large bay window with a window seat that was currently littered with a dozen or so glowing candles of different colors and shapes. The moonless night sky allowed the glass to reflect all the light from the warm glow back into the room like a mirror. 

Staring into the mirror-like window allowed Willow to examine her space without turning her head. Behind her she saw the tops of high backed chairs arranged around a fireplace frozen in time from a century long forgotten. A beautifully decorated door looked small in its reflection, and Willow reasoned that this room was quite large indeed. 

Pulling away from the looking-glass, Willow's eyes turned to the walls which were covered in shadow and mystery. Every wall she looked to was covered in antiques she couldn't place. As her eyes swayed around the walls next to the window, her eyes came to rest upon the nightstand which stood beside the bed. It was then that Willow realized just how high up the bed was off the floor. A good four feet below her rested her shoes and socks. Glancing up to her feet, she saw that indeed her feet were bare. She wiggled her toes for good measure and then turned around to examine the other side of the bed and bedroom. What she saw forced her to draw in a deep breath.

Standing regally next to the fireplace was Spike. He stood staring at her as intently as she was staring at him. Slowly, Willow realized he was not wearing the same trademark red shirt, but instead was draped beautifully in form fitting black leather pants and a white gothic looking poet shirt that was half open, exposing his upper chest. 

The silence between them stretched on as both continued to stare at the other. Around them the living light swayed like the sea, lulling the two first closer together and then farther apart.

She didn't want to speak, but the absolute need of knowledge that was so Willow compelled her to break the standoff. "Am I dead?"

A slow and soft smile crept over the vampire's pale face as he regarded her, then suddenly it came crashing in on its self. "If I said you weren't, would you be disappointed?"

Spike watched her closely as her eyes found her hands and she began to fidget. He couldn't understand her. 

In the park, when she had told him she wanted to die, he had thought it was the liquor and circumstance talking. When he'd sunk his fangs into her delicately scented neck he'd been ready to do as she asked. But the first taste of her blood had immediately ended that thought.

Her blood had been rich, thick with a sweet innocence to it. There was no other way to describe it really. He'd wanted more, but he also wanted more for later too. He'd decided in the time of a thought that he'd drain her to unconsciousness and take her back to the factory. At least that was the plan until the girl had spoken. "Thank you, Spike." In reality it meant nothing, but Spike had been alone since Drusilla left him months earlier, and her whispered words of thanks had sealed both of their fates.

Stepping away from the fireplace, Spike made his way to the bed where Willow still sat examining her hands. When he reached her side he placed a single cool finger under her chin and tilted her eyes up to meet his. His words were soft, but also demanding. "I believe I asked you a question, Red."

Willow couldn't help it, his eyes demanded too much of her. "Yes, I am disappointed." Swiftly then, Willow rolled her head to the side to escape his stone cold fingertips. Eyes once again cast down she waited for him to laugh, to promise her that he had only brought her here to prolong her suffering. This was after all Spike, and Willow understood that these were her final moments.

But Spike wasn't interested in the kill at the moment; he was too busy examining her answer. **_Why the bloody hell would she want to die so badly?! Sure she's the weak one, but this is ridiculous! Maybe she thinks I'm going to kill her and she's putting on a bloody show of indifference. That must be it. But still, her heart rate hasn't increased in the slightest; she's not afraid of me…well I'll be damned, the mousy little Slayerette does want to die._**

Moving his hand faster than human sight could comprehend, he captured Willow's face again and forced her to look at him once more. In her eyes he saw nothing. Her eyes were already dead; she was only waiting for the rest of her body to follow.

A sudden ache filled him and he swiftly removed his hand from her face and stepped away from the bed where a stunned Willow still sat unmoved from when he'd first walked over. 

Spike returned to his perch by the fireplace.

Willow watched Spike as he seemed to stare off into a completely different world. She wasn't sure what she was suppose to make of him, but for some strange reason she didn't feel threatened by him—and that made her angry.

She had gotten drunk, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the park--which was major vampire hunting grounds--and then screamed at the top of her lungs for a vampire to come and kill her. And then when the most deadly of the bunch showed up, he didn't even kill her. What did she have to do, spell it out for him? Stupid vampire!

"Look Spike," at her voice, he turned his attention to look at her. "I realize this is a new concept to you, but I want to die; and you really do want to kill me. So why don't we get this stupid torture thing over with and you just gorge yourself on my oh so sweet blood. Or whatever you want to call it. Okay?"

One blink, then another. Willow watched in amazement as the vampire who had threatened to kill her and her friends numerous times just stood there staring at a free meal. He didn't even seem interested in her, like in reality she wasn't really there. 

His next words proved her right. "Do you know how long you've been out? Or even where you are? Don't you think those would be some good questions to be asking yourself?"

Questions with questions. "Look Spike I don't really care where I am, or how long I've been here, or even why I'm here! Why is this so hard for you to understand? There are lots of people who want to die everyday. Why is this such a brain teaser that I'm one of them?"

"Because Pet, I've known you for a pretty long while and you never seemed the type. Sure you weren't the strongest of the bunch, but you weren't a quitter either. So I'm wondering, what made you change your mind, that's all."

He'd struck a nerve, the moment he'd mentioned her friends, her head had shot down to watch her hands again. He called her on it. "This have something to do with those friends of yours?" No response. "Or that bloody Slayer?" That had done it.

At the mention of the Slayer, Willow's shoulders had tensed up and her whole body seemed to shake with uncontrolled emotions. Spike was about to press the obvious answer to his question, when she surprised him with a question of her own.

"How long _have_ I been here?"

"Four days."

Willow's head flew up and she stared at the vampire less than twenty feet away from her. "Four days? But that's impossible! You bit me just last night. And even if it had been four days, Buffy would have come looking for me. There's no way you could keep me in Sunnydale for four days without Buffy finding me."

"That's 'cause we aren't in Sunnydale any longer."

A flash of light, a hint of terror crossed the girl's face. Suddenly she realized she didn't know where she was, how she had gotten there, or how to get home. 

But fear doesn't last long in a body that's determined to end its own suffering, and Willow only cleared her throat and asked pointedly. "Then where are we?"

"Somewhere the bloody Slayer can't find you." It wasn't an answer really, but the girl on the bed didn't protest for a more detailed one. 

Walking once more to the bed, Spike regarded Willow, who in return was regarding him. The next thing he did startled both of them; Spike sat down on the bed next to Willow and took her hand.

For Willow, his words echoed long after he had left her room, locking the door behind him; and long after she had blown out all of the candles. "You're here because I want you here. And you'll stay here until I let you go, or kill you which ever I choose. You want to die so badly Red, let's see how you fair with just a little bit of death at a time."

But a little isn't enough, for a woman who's met her match in life. Staring into the single remaining lit candle, Willow Rosenburg drifted off into an uneasy sleep, filled with dancing vampires and living flames.


	3. Cigars, Cigarettes, Razors!

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Cigars, Cigarettes, Razors!

**_Another night_**. Willow thought as she lit the many candles that had become her only source of light. Shortly after Spike left, Willow had fallen into a deep dream filled sleep. When she'd awoken, the sun had been high in the sky. Because of the position of the window she realized she had a million-dollar view; one that faced out over the great expanse of the ocean. Which ocean, she wasn't quite sure, she didn't know what time of day it had been either. Spike had said that she'd been out for four days. That was plenty of time for a vampire with his resources to get one girl to the other side of the country—or even beyond. His remark about them being somewhere the Slayer couldn't find them, made the possibilities of their location innumerable. She tried not to think about it.

Moving from the last candle she crossed the large room and sat down on the floor before the fire. Pressing her back to the front of the chair so that her head tipped back to the cushion of the sitting portion, Willow examined the ceiling for a few moments, watching the light from the fire and the fifty or so candles play across the texture revealing hidden pictures. 

Reaching up her hand to the dark marble table beside her, Willow brought the loaf of bread down to her level and tore off a hunk and stuck it into her mouth. 

When she'd awoken for the first time during the day, she'd found a tray of food sitting on the black table; a loaf of French bead, a small hunk of cheese, and a bottle of water. The food had sickened her at first, but she'd been thankful for the water. 

After getting up this second time, she'd found a small door she'd taken at first to be a closet, was really the door to a private wash room. She'd taken a few of the candles into the room and had a long warm bath to try to clear her head. When she'd finished, she dressed in her old clothes and lit the rest of the candles. 

Now as she sat in front of the blazing fire all she could do was wait for her host to return to her. Normally—if she were in her right mind—Willow would have been terrified at being trapped in a room with Spike, the Master of Sunnydale, and the one vampire who had kidnapped her and promised her death. But she wasn't in her right mind. All she could see was Oz and…it didn't matter. Death was a welcomed friend now, and Spike was the death man's chaffer. 

She felt rather than heard his approach to her cell. The feeling of a dog who's master has beaten him one to many times and now sits and waits for the next blow without emotion, came immediately to her mind; she ignored it. Willow sat where she was, head tipped back chewing quietly on a bite of bread and cheese, as the door opened and closed again. 

Spike for his part was trying to look past the obviousness of her prone position. Head thrown back bearing her neck to the waiting vampire, the girl looked like a child sacrifice to a great dragon in this room lit only by firelight. He knew what she was trying to do, offer herself quietly, letting him know that she wasn't going to put up a struggle. But for all that he understood what she was doing, her head thrown back like this, neck bared, firelight reflecting off her long red hair, it was one of the most erotic pictures he had ever been witness too. In that moment she was a thousand times more beautiful than Drusilla had ever been. And that one revelation was what was causing him to stay were he was, by the closed door, watching this red haired temptress with no desire to live, throw herself to the waiting jaws of the dragon.

He was trapped and he knew it. So like any great vampire, he played it off. "I didn't think you'd still be tired, Red. Want some more time to sleep?" His smile was forced; he could feel the strain pull his muscles tight as he waited for her answer. 

Willow turned her head, exposing the left side of her neck to Spikes hungry eyes. He couldn't help it, he licked his lips. Smiling a knowing smile, Willow looked enticingly at her keeper. "Only if it's the permanent kind. Think you could help me?"

**_Damn it, she's doing it again! What the hell is wrong with her?_** "Damn it Red, what in the hell's wrong with you?! You're the only person I know who actually wants to die!"

For a fraction of a second, Willow's eyes grew wide with fear. Then like a cloud over the moon, she was indifferent again. Spike couldn't take it anymore. He was angry at himself for even caring what the little chit was feeling. **_It's not as if I'm souled or something equally as vampire stupefying. Her defiance is just grating the hell out of me!_**

After he'd left her room the night before, he'd gone to the kitchen to bring her up something to eat. He wasn't sure why he was doing what he was doing. To keep himself sane, he just chalked it up to all those years of taking care of Dru. But for some unknown reason, he knew that wasn't the real reason. He tried not to think about it.

Once he'd gotten back up to the room with the food, he'd found that she'd fallen asleep. After laying the food on the table, Spike had walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed and watched the fallen red head sleep. In sleep, she looked almost happy, innocent like she didn't when she was awake and her eyes haunted with a strange stillness.

That day he'd dreamed of her eyes haunting him from one corner of the house to the other, calling out to him to save her. He wasn't sure why, but even in his dreams, he'd followed the sound of her voice as it permeated the seaside mansion, trying to find this lost child. For that is what he saw now as he looked at her prone form, just as he'd seen it in his dreams, a child. A child so utterly lost that it caused a two-hundred-year-old killer to feel compassion towards her.

In the end, he hadn't found her, instead his dream self had taken him to the small door that let into her private bathroom, before it had stopped and he'd awoken to gasping breaths. 

After the dream, sleep seemed pointless and he'd gone to check on her. He'd heard her moving around her bedroom, but a cold chill had passed over him as he'd heard her turn the water on for a bath. Thinking back to his dream, Spike had remained in the hallway outside her bedroom door, until he'd heard her again moving around her room after her bath. Only then, when he'd known that the bathroom door was shut tight, did he return to his quarters—just down the hall—and awaited the night.

Now as he stood in the doorway to her elegant room, he couldn't help but glance away from the prone body of his suicidal captive to the flush wood door that moved into the adjoining washroom. Again the chill passed over him.

Willow's eyes tracked the sudden movement of Spike as he rushed upon the bathroom door and went inside. Getting up from her position by the fire, Willow moved to follow the vampire into the room. Chilled from the loss of the fire's heat, she shivered as she came into contact with the tiled floor.

The room was pitch black, the only light coming through the doorway she was herself currently blocking with her body; so she didn't see Spike withdraw from the room. The contact was light, just the material of his Poet shirt brushing against her unclothed arm, but it was enough. A small shriek escaped her lips as she backed way from the vampire she could not see. Stumbling over the edge of the carpeting that harold the main room, Willow braced herself for the fall she was in no capacity to prevent.

Suddenly, strong cool arms wrapped themselves around her waist and shoulders, catching her in mid-decent. In the blink of an eye, Willow found herself flush against the hard body of her savior.

The next thing that happened startled both her and Spike, but as he shifted his hold on her just slightly, Willow released the tension in her muscles and leaned into him.

He could feel the muscles shift under his hands and as the tension eased from her body he took more of her weight onto himself and cradled her in the protection of his arms. Using his heightened sense of smell he took in the delicate scent of her hair—the smell of a flower he couldn't place wafted back at him and he basked in the sense of warmth that was this fragile girl. Bringing his hand up from her shoulder, he began to lightly pet her hair and whisper soothingly to her that he was sorry for scaring her.

For her part, Willow was in a place she thought was out of limits for her. Here in this monster's arms, she'd found something she so desperately needed but could not name. At his soft words and light hands, she found herself snuggling into him and reveling in the solid expanse of his chest. 

For a minute she forgot, as his hands worked wonders on her senses, that she was a prisoner. She forgot what she was trying to hide in the bathroom. But as she felt his hand about her waist tighten, felt the sharp edge of metal against her skin, she tensed immediately and look up into his face.

Spike wasn't sure what he was doing, but he knew the feeling he and Willow were creating was one that he could never remember feeling with is cold dark goddess. She was like warm inviting sand, she molded into the impressions his muscles created and filled him with a heat he thought he'd forgotten to time and the nights his demon lived in. But now she tensed and suddenly realizing that he now knew what had been in the washroom; and it was time he confronted her. He wasn't going to let anything happen to her.

Pulling away from her slightly, but still keeping his arms about her, he looked into her eyes and saw the question there.

"You know exactly what I found, don't you, Willow?"

She couldn't remember him ever using her real name, so she was startled into answering his question. "Yes."

Nodding his head, Spike moved the hand he had about her waist up into view of both of them. Shifting his other arm from around her shoulders to around her waist he kept her in his tight embrace where though she was still tensed, she had not made to move away.

In the light of the candles, the gleam of fire off metal caused the tiny razor blade to sparkle. Spike held it between two fingers now and due to his vampire enhanced senses, he could not only see, but also smell the blood on the razor.

While in the blackened bathroom, Spike had instantly known why he'd been drawn to the room. The smell of innocent blood permeated the walls around him, threatening to overwhelm him. He'd caught the glint of the razor blade just before Willow had walked into the room. It was the scent that rolled off of her that caused him to step back and nearly collide into her. In the moments after catching her, he'd been distracted by…her. Too distracted to notice the smell of blood. Just a little, the type of blood letting that accompanies testing a knife for sharpness against a thumb.

Now as Spike took a full step away from her, he could smell her essence more fully and it threatened again to overwhelm him. Kneeling down before her, like a man to pray before a goddess, he slipped his hands under the bottom of her long T-shirt and meant to pull it up a little before her hands flew to his and stopped the progress of both the T-shirt and his hands.

Willow knew it was over, but she didn't want him to see the evidence that would incriminate her. Her eyes met his in a silent plea to stop, but a slight shake of Spike's head 'No' caused her to drop her hands and wait for what was about to come.

The minute her hands left his, Spike stood and in a move he would later wonder about, lifted her into his arms and carried the unstrugling girl to the bed and laid her out on her back. With her arms slightly away from her body, he looked into her face and asked. "How bad is it, Luv?"

She couldn't look at him. Turning her head to the side, she stared into the fire as Spike's adept fingers lifted her shirt and exposed the flesh of her toned stomach. She heard him draw in a quick breath and wondered for a split second that she had made him draw oxygen. Then at the sound of her name on his lips, she turned her attention back to him.

She didn't understand the look on his face. He was a killer after all, but just then the look on his face said otherwise. The look read across the spectrum. There was anger, pity, and for just a second a look of real worry. It was the worry that caught her attention and she suddenly felt a need to reassure him. "It's not that bad really, I'm ok, it doesn't hurt."

"Doesn't hurt! You carved yourself up like a Jack-o-Lantern from hell! Don't tell me this doesn't hurt!" He punctuated his remark by poking a finger at one of the diagonal lines that ran across her stomach in a criss-cross pattern that created diamonds all over her stomach. His finger touched the skin that curled under itself and away from the cut. At the contact, Willow flinched but didn't cry out. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut tight and waited for the waves of pain to cease washing over her stomach.

Spike saw her expression and pulled his hand back. Looking over her entire frame he noticed the cuts seemed without pattern and were semi deep in some places, light welts in others. It looked to him like the type of cuts he'd inflicted on hundreds of his victims over the years; cuts designed not to kill, but to cause vast amounts of pain.

"Why?" He didn't know what else to say to her.

She was quiet for a moment, while she let the question wash over her like the pain. Then opening her eyes she looked at him and gave a half hearted grin. "I guess," the grin faded away. "It didn't hurt when I did it."

"You were in the bathtub at the time." It wasn't a question, but Willow nodded her confirmation anyway. Again the same question. "Why?"

She shrugged her shoulders, which caused the skin of her stomach to stretch and she grimaced slightly. "It made me feel better, I guess."

So simple really, the truth, where so many other lies could have been uttered, she'd spoken the absolute and total truth. He watched her face as the obvious pain from her torn skin showed on it like a book; but along with the pain he saw a determination, one that spoke volumes to a vampire as old and accomplished in the ways of torture as he was. Done. It was the look of a person who had finally conceded to death and was only waiting for the final blow. And it was then that Spike realized he couldn't bear to see that look on this little girl's face. For he'd decided just that, she was nothing but a little, lost girl, and she'd found a spot in his heart he'd thought long dead. Maybe it was because she seemed so much like his insane goddess, but he reasoned it was something completely different, something he couldn't figure out right now because he had other things that had to be done first.

Rising from the bed, Spike went to the bathroom. Returning a few moments later he carried a towel and a basin filled with luke warm water. Placing the basin on the nightstand he proceeded to clean the wounds as delicately as possible. At her grimacing face, he began to speak to her in a low tone that seemed to draw Willow out of the pain that threatened to encompass her.

With determination, she listened to what he said and found a strange sense of comfort from the words he spoke. "The cuts should heal, but some of the deeper ones, may scare, I'm not quite sure at this point. Don't worry about it though, Ducks, you'll be fine. I'm not going to let anything hurt you again…shhhh, shhhh, I know, I know…I'm almost done pet. You don't have to do this ever again. I know it hurts now, Luv, but I promise I'll make it better…I'll make it all better. Shhh…almost done. Do you like blackberries? How about raspberries? There's a path along the shore that has a few bushes, I'm not sure which kind of berry grows on it, but as soon as you're up to it we'll go take a look, sound good? I'm sorry, Willow, this one's deep, it'll be over in just a sec Luv, promise…there, better? The berries should be ripe now, at least I'm pretty sure they will be, it's been a while since I've eaten any, but you can tell me if they are or not later. How's that sound?"

Lifting her hand from her side, Willow touched his wrist, causing Spike to stop and stare at first their joined hands and then her face. A roguish smile stole over his handsome face. "Don't tell me, you hate berries, right?"

A shy smile stole over her face then. "No I like berries, it's just I won't be able to have any."

"Why's that, Luv?"

"Because the first chance I have, I'm going to try to finish this." She moved her hand across her torso indicating the open cuts. Spike knew she didn't mean finish the messy pattern, but the wish she had to kiss death goodnight.

Smiling down at her, the emotion touched his eyes, and caused them to crinkle. "We'll pick those berries, Willow. And once you've tasted them, you can tell me if they're ripe or not." Pausing he examine her face and saw the hint of her recognition of his power over her. Moving his hand to her face he caressed it for a moment before he caught her eyes again. "I'm not going to let you go, Red. I think it's safe to say you've bewitched me; and while I don't quite know what I'm doing right now, I'll figure it out in time. Until then, you just worry about not moving too much until these wounds heal. I think when it doesn't hurt you to stand anymore I'll show you the rest of your home. It doesn't seem right to keep you locked-up here in this room all day, now does it?"

He saw the desperation flash into her eyes and his heart lurched at it. "Please Spike, I just want to go, ok? Please understand, I just want this to be over with. Please…please."

Placing a cool finger over her lips, he hushed her and gave her a quick smile. "I don't know what hurt you, Red, but eventually, when you're ready, you'll tell me. Until then, just know that nothing is going to hurt you ever again."

"Spike I don't want this, I just want to-"

"Shhhh, Luv, get some rest."

With that, he rose from the bed and took the basin tinged pink into the washroom. When he came out he gave her another smile and moved towards the door.

"I'm not really sure about this thing I feel for you, Pet, but I'm not ready to ignore it yet. It seems ri…I'm not sure, but I'm going to find out. I knew a girl once, when I was still alive, who's father used to beat her something awful. She used to take her father's razor to the bruises he'd made and carve smiley faces into her body. She once told me that it made her feel better knowing she was the one causing the pain and not her father. That and I saw an info-mercial on it once. Whoever hurt you, will pay, I promise you that. Until then, you don't have to worry about causing yourself anymore pain to cover up the old ones," another soft smile. "No more pain to for you my Red Queen, I won't stand for it."

With that he left the room. As the lock sounded in the door, Willow looked to the ceiling and pondered over his words. When she fell asleep hours later, she still didn't understand any more than the fact that Spike wouldn't hurt her. She didn't know if that thought made her want to laugh or cry.


	4. You Did WHAT in the Bathroom!

****

Chapter 4 You Did What In the Bathroom?!

For three days and two nights, Spike entered Willow's room at sunset carrying food and medicine. Tonight he'd taken the tray over and placed it on her nightstand then moved around the room lighting candles all over. When he finished, he sat on the edge of her bed.

"Morning, Willow."

"It's night." This particular game always caused the straight line of her mouth to twitch up in the corners—just a little.

"So it is, so it is. How're the battle scares?" Spike had told Willow that all wounds should be viewed as battle scares; there was at least some honor in those.

"Fine. They don't hurt when I move anymore."

"Good to hear, Luv. Need some help with that pesky shirt today?"

"No thank you, I'll be fine."

Spike excepted her answer and stood. Pulling back the covers, he lifted Willow's slight frame into his arms and carried her into the bathroom. Standing her up by the sink, Spike turned on the water and handed her her toothbrush—which he'd brought for her before she'd awaken when she'd first arrived. Leaving her to her brushing, Spike moved to the bathtub and—setting the temperature just right—let it begin to fill.

On his way out the door he turned around and looked at the slight woman…girl…child, he didn't know which. In one of his black poet shirts she was completely swamped, the cuffs, falling far past her fingers so she had to keep pushing them up as she brushed her teeth. The shirt told the whole truth though as it fell to her knees and wrapped around her too thin legs. She was so tiny. He'd have to remember to get her to eat a little more.

Moving his eyes back up her body, he noticed that she held her torso away from the edge of the counter so as not to rub her injured flesh against it. He could almost sense her pain in the way she held her body so straight. Since the incident, neither one had discussed the markings, though she had let him know in little ways that she wouldn't do it again; including slipping a piece of broken glass she'd found into his pocket. She hadn't said a thing as she'd done it, only briefly making eye contact with him. He was fairly certain she wouldn't try to hurt herself again; it hadn't worked and she knew it, she wasn't one to repeat a botched attempt. Unlike some, she learned from her mistakes. This realization only made Spike more worried about her continued wish to die. However he had some hope. Over the last few days she'd been very quiet on the subject and he thought that just maybe she was reconsidering it.

Glancing at the bath he knew would ease the ache in her body, he opened the door. "If you decide you need some help, will you call for me?"

He watcher her eyes try to find his invisible one in the mirror by tracking his voice. Spike was amazed when her eyes locked on his as if she'd suddenly seen them in the looking glass. "I will."

It was all she said but Spike knew it to be enough. If she needed help she'd ask for it, she'd said so, and that was good enough for him. Shutting the door so only a sliver of light from the candles he'd lit escaped from inside, he left her eyes which still seemed to track his movements.

Moving over to the fireplace, Spike removed the old fashioned grating and began to put more wood on the fire. Everyday at noon he'd get out of bed to check on Willow. At first he'd told himself it was because the house could get cold easily so he'd gone in to stoke the fire. Then he said it was to make sure she hadn't tried anything stupid—only in reality he knew that she wouldn't. Right now she was weak, that was true, but not weak enough to try to end her life. After all, she could have done it herself in Sunnydale but instead had asked a Master Vampire. No, in the end he realized it wasn't for either of those reasons, it was because of the way she slept.

In sleep alone she abandoned her death wish and it was then and only then he witnessed just how hurt and damaged she truly was. Face marred by stress and betrayal she would call out to the wolf, her parents, or the idiot. He didn't know why yet but every night he watched her and waited for the phrase that would make all of her pain known to him. That very day she'd cried in her sleep for nearly half an hour, trapped in a nightmare none of her "friends and family" could save her from. In the end it was he who'd shaken her gently and soothed her nightmare away with calming sounds and quiet words.

Putting the grate back over the fire, Spike moved to the bed and straightened her sheets. The last two days Willow had been in too much pain to really move. He'd had to change the bandages around her stomach, but what he'd thought was going to be a hard thing to convince her of turned out to be quite simple.

When he'd explained what he was going to do Willow had just looked at him for a moment—a strange look he hadn't understood then and still didn't—then began to unbutton the poet shirt she was wearing. She didn't react as the deep burgundy silk fell from her shoulders and revealed her pale yet perfect breasts. The only indication Spike had that she realized what she was doing was the slight blush that spread slowly from her cheeks, down her neck, and finally added a touch of rose color to her bosom. He'd been grateful she'd reacted, it meant she still cared who was looking at her body—it meant she hadn't completely given up.

The relief culminated with the glorious sight of this seemingly beautiful virgin sacrifice, had left him unable to restrain himself. The word was out of his mouth before he even registered he'd said it. "Perfect."

Suddenly her eyes had shot from the patterns she was tracing on the comforter. Taking his hostage while she'd looked directly into what was left of his soul. She seemed to test his word, weighing her impressions of him and what he'd just whispered. Finally after a personal eternity she released his eyes and whispered back. "Thank you."

Now as he stopped to think about it, she had thanked him again. He'd taken her prisoner and yet there she had been only the night before, thanking him. He'd wanted to uncover the rest of her that night but instead had bandaged her red wounds and given her some painkillers. She'd fallen asleep soon after.

"Spike?"

Her soft call cut through his thoughts and brought him back to the present. Faster than human eyes could see he was across the room and at the door. "You called, Luv." A statement, but he wasn't going to ask her if she needed his help; she'd have to request that on her own. The fact that she understood he was there for her was what mattered.

Knowing he was at the door, she spoke softly. "I can't…I can't bend over…it hurts too much."

"Did you re-open the cuts?"

"Just two, the deep ones…" She was waiting for him he knew, but he held his ground. She had to admit to herself that she needed his help, it was the only way she'd know it for herself. "Spike…"

"Right here, Luv." He hated this! Hated having to make her feel weaker than she was, but she had to realized she needed him; realized she had to trust him to get better.

"Will…will you please…I mean…help me?" Her voice was so small so afraid that he'd reject her, tell her to do it herself.

Pushing the door open slowly he saw her curtain of bright red hair shielding her face from her embarrassment, because now he understood why she'd needed his help. The towel he'd left on the warming rack for her had dropped from her body and lay in a puddle of wet cloth at her feet. Clutched in her tiny fist was her pair of black satin and lace knickers. She stood before him, naked and wet, her skin a glow from the heat of the water she'd just emerged from.

He felt his body stir at the sight of this beautiful wet fire sprite, but ignored it and went to her aid. She had to realize he wouldn't hurt her, that she could trust him, and that her needs came first to him.

Kneeling before her, he placed gentle hands on her hips as his surprising posture startled her. "Stay." Picking up the towel from the ground he dabbed at the small amount of blood that had formed on the re-opened cuts. Her blood smelled of her innocents—it had to be removed first.

Taking one hand from her hip, he reached for the bit of fabric and lace and removed it from her grip. Sitting back on his knees he unfolded them and held the beautiful material open for her to step into. "Put your hands on my shoulders Red, then left leg first."

Doing what she was told he glided the material over her calves, up the incline of her thighs, and over the perfect curve of her hips. Glancing up he caught the look she was giving him before he smiled and said. "Perfect."

A deep blush immediately spread over her face but she did not look away, instead she replied, "Thank you," and made to step away. But Spike was faster. He had both hands on her hips once again holding her still before he hooked one arm under her knees and lifted her into his arms; her small uncovered breasts still damp from her bath, molded against his chest wetting his white shirt.

Not making a sound, she wound her arms around his neck and allowed him to carry her into the bedroom. Placing her on her feet beside the bed he moved to the closet and pulled out a green silk shirt he'd placed in there a few days before. 

Draping it across the bed he spoke to her. "Rest the palms of your hands behind you on the bed."

She complied and Spike took the jar of salve and applied the medicine over her stomach liberally. Once he was satisfied he got a roll of gauze from the tray he'd brought in and wrapped her stomach loosely.

When he finished, he took his green shirt from the bed and after undoing all the buttons, helped her slip her arms into it. Ignoring the peeks of her nipples against the fabric, Spike secured the buttons and lifted her to lie on the bed.

"Thank you, Spike."

"Anytime, Willow, anytime."

Taking the top off the soup he'd brought up with him, Spike sat on the edge of the bed and fed Willow spoonful after spoonful of the hearty liquid. When she'd eaten all but a small portion, Spike reached over and broke off a section of the bread he'd also brought along and soaked the rest of the soup with it. Handing the soggy warm hunk to her waiting hands he stood and left her side to clean the bathroom.

***

Willow nibbled on the soup-warmed bread. She wasn't hungry anymore but ate absently as she waited for Spike to return. Hearing the water drain from the tub she knew he wouldn't be long.

Drawing in a deep breath she tested the tension on her aching yet warm and full tummy. Finding the wrappings not to tight, she examined the events of the evening so far, and couldn't help but blush.

When she'd dropped the towel and realized she couldn't pick it back up she hadn't been sure what to do. Asking for Spike's help and giving him a peep show at the same time had been the last resort, but she had started to get cold and since the only warmth was coming from the fire in the other room she'd had little choice.

Nothing of the Spike from Sunnydale had been apparent in the way he'd treated her so lovingly when he'd come to her rescue—that wasn't true; he'd treated Drusilla just like he had her, with patience and understanding. He knew her limitations and didn't say a word when he realized her situation and obvious discomfort. Spike had been a complete gentleman and then to let her know that his doctor like tact was just an act, he'd told her he thought her body was perfect. Maybe it was the way he said it or the hint of a smile on his sculptured face but she believed him, truly believed that in that moment, he'd found her perfect.

Over the last few nights Willow had been witness to not the Master of Sunnydale or even a desperate and shunned lover, but the vampire she'd begun to think of as the real Spike, the real William. And without wanting to, she'd found herself hoping he let her live just a little while longer so she could meet the rest of him.

She knew Spike felt something towards her but what she didn't know; and she didn't think he really did either. She would often find him just looking at her, studying her. When she'd asked him about it he'd simply say he was watching her live. Willow didn't understand what he meant by it but against her wishes her heart had leapt.

The last few days and Spikes constant attention had quieted the voice inside her that told her to do whatever it took to stop hurting. Replacing it was a restless curiosity to see where she was, and more importantly, understand the vampire who had brought her here.

Spike had evaded all questions as to where she was and Willow didn't think he was going to tell her for some time. She figured she was somewhere along the West Coast but because it was so cold in the middle of spring she figured she had to be in the North, maybe in Oregon or Washington. Again she realized that she didn't really care, she was more interested in seeing what was outside her door than outside the house; although the beach was definitely something she wanted to explore.

Just the thought of leaving Spike sent a shiver down her spine and she reluctantly admitted to herself that she had come to enjoy their time together. The way he seemed to cherish her, devote all of his attention to her, make her feel as if she was the most important woman on the face of the Earth. He'd told her the night after her attempt with the razor that he didn't want anything to happen to her. That for some reason he felt drawn to her. But most importantly that he was going to protect her. He'd told her not to worry about her friends, that she would just stay here with him and get better. She wasn't exactly sure what he meant by "better"—she felt perfectly fine—but he'd spoken with such tenderness and devotion that she hadn't said a word.

She couldn't explain it, even to herself, but with Spike she felt safe, and safe was not how she needed to feel. The talk of her staying with him until she was better caused that voice inside her that called for death to struggle against the cage Spike had helped her build around it. She was confused. She couldn't decide if she wanted to die or wanted to stay with Spike. The frustration she felt caused her to lash out at Spike every so often, but he just took it, and then would renew his efforts to touch her in little ways, both physically and emotionally. Now she was lost, trapped by Oz, her parents, and her "friends". So instead of trying to fight she clung to Spike; hoping he could tell her what to do without her having to admit to him or really, to herself.

The soft swoosh of the door announced Spike and Willow placed the last bite of bread into her mouth. She watched him move the candles he'd brought from the bathroom onto a shelf and cross the room to her side.

"Did I see you eat the last of the bread?"

She nodded her head and gave him a weak smile.

"Good your too skinny. You girls today, eating like little starving birds. Back when I was still human a man liked a girl who had some meat on her, you know, birthing weight! Now I'm not talking a fat sow or anything like that but a gal that doesn't look like the starving of Africa. Used to be if a woman wanted an hour glass figure she tied whale bones around her waist and poof, instant time piece; now not only do you girls think you have to have it naturally but you're removing your own bones to get it! Rib removal, have heard of this?! Now sure God took a rib from Adam, but damnit at least the bloke got a woman for it, you females just save whales." He paused and looked at her. "Does this make any sense to you?"

"You think I'm too skinny."

"Yes, exactly, good you were listening."

"I always listen to you." She blushed as the words were spoken and Spike couldn't help the smile that touched his lips.

"Good thing, Pet, 'cause I only say the truth. Now should I get a whale for you? You can eat it and get really fat and then we'll have the bones made into a corset for you to wear to special functions." The smile was wide on his face and Willow had to laugh at the image of her trying to eat a whole whale and then tie its bones around her waist.

"You should know I worked on a campaign to save the whales last year. I raised a hundred and eleven dollars."

"Figures, you'd want to save the bloody whales. You want to save everybody. Especially those that don't care to know you're doing it for them."

His words struck home for Willow and she flinched under them. Over the course of the last few days, Spike had tried to talk to her about why she wanted to die. He'd surmised from what she'd said in her drunken stupor that Oz had hurt her in some way and that the Slayer was involved. But she hadn't said anything, choosing to ignore his question. It was the only topic they'd discussed so far that she wouldn't talk with him about. Now, instead of taking the bait he'd thrown at her she simply shifted her eyes from his beautiful face and watched the fire dance in its cage.

Sighing, Spike relented. "Sorry Luv, bad form on my part. I suppose you'll tell me when you're ready. Anyway, in the mean time, I've got a surprise for you."

Taking her attention away from the fire she looked at him quizzically and waited for him to continue.

"Well as I recall, I promised you when you were feeling better, I'd show you around the house." He paused at the light that shone in her eyes. "Think you're ready for the trip, Pet?"

Nodding her head, Willow started to get out of bed but stopped at Spike's hand on her shoulder. "I don't think so Willow. No sense in showing you around the house and then having you too weak and tired to enjoy it. Besides," He lifted her into his arms and waited for her to wrap her arms around his neck lightly. "A woman such as _yourself_, should not have to exert _herself_ in anyway. It just isn't proper in a house like this."

"A house like what?"

He chuckled and she relaxed into his embrace as the vibrations washed over her like soothing water. "You'll see."


	5. Stairway to Heaven

****

Stairway to Heaven

Willow couldn't shake the feeling of being safe in the arms of Spike; it was like a blanket of warm peace that settled over her chilled by death frame. She tried to ignore it.

The hallway he carried her down seemed to go on forever, yet every few steps she seemed to pass some door or opening that led into another room.

Spike noticed her watching the doors and rooms pass by. "Be patient, Luv. I'll show them all to you in good time." He continued down the hallway until he reached a flight of stairs that descended quite a ways. Adjusting his grip around her body he climbed down the stairs as if he wasn't carrying an additional 105 and a half pounds. 

Closing her eyes, Willow allowed Spike to carry her down the staircase and beyond. She wanted him to show her everything, everything she'd been missing her whole life. In anticipation she waited keeping her eyes closed. It was like being reborn again. When she opened her eyes she knew she would be entering a world she would never leave alive. Holding her breath she waited for Spike to cease his movements.

Spike wrapped his arms tighter around Willow. She was so slight in his arms that all he felt he could do to keep her with him was to hold onto her for dear life. When he'd reentered her room after rearranging the bathroom and made the mistake of talking about her friends he'd seen a dark look pass over her face. He feared that his blunder would cause her to continue her death wish. Knowing he could do nothing but take her mind off of her thoughts he'd decided to keep his promise and show her around the mansion. Her face when he'd said that he was keeping his promise lit up, almost like she couldn't remember the last time someone had kept their word to her. He knew he was speculating her reaction but what he did know was a light had gone on in her eyes at his words, and whether it was because she would get to see where she was or something else, it didn't matter as long as her eyes lit up like that always.

Realizing he was exactly where he wanted to begin her tour he stopped and whispered near her ear that lay on his chest. "Willow, take a breath and open your eyes."

She did as he said. With her eyes still closed she took a deep breath and exhaled her old life. As she inhaled her new one she opened her eyes and the new breath died on her lips. 

A grand entranceway lay before her covered in white marble and glittering in the candle light which was housed in over twenty scones which lined the walls. The ceiling lifted two dozen feet above her and encompassed the second story while a staircase, the width of three-quarters of the entranceway, stood over thirty feet away from her. Beautiful pictures of grassy fields in the summer sun hung along the walls and seemed to shine in the candlelight. She could see four distinct hallways that branched away from the foyer, two to the left and the other two to the right. Recessed from the stairs in front of her were two double doors that were currently closed—the design, those of French doors. To her right, Willow saw a room made entirely of glass walls and beyond the walls she could see green plants growing, their broad leaves fanning out against the glass. Turning her head so she was looking over Spike's shoulder, Willow saw the Grand Entrance with its two sturdy oak doors and delicate carvings.

She was speechless. All around her were things she had only seen in old movies like Gone with the Wind. Willow had never actually dreamed of ever being in a house like this one let alone living in one with a vampire. Turning her head around she looked into Spike's eyes and just stared at him; she didn't even know where to begin.

"Do you like it, Luv?" He smiled knowing from her expression that she loved the old place already.

Her reply came out in a whisper, her excitement was so great. "May I see the rest?"

Spike's smile widened and the look of pleasure and happiness that plastered itself on his face lit up a place deeply stowed away inside Willow Rosenburg. She felt her heart trip over itself that she had made him happy; that she was able to make at least someone happy. The last thought brought her down a little but Willow ignored it and instead concentrated on getting Spike to show her the rest of her home.

"Are you going to grin all night long or show me this incredible house?" Her voice echoed down the hallway and came back at her in a slightly higher tone. She smiled and looked toward the direction her echo had come. "It's so…beautiful."

He watched the instantaneous love and affection for the mansion come over her; much like it had himself all those decades ago. Her eyes sparkled and caught the light of the tapers, making them dance to a music only she could hear. Here in his arms, she was the most startlingly beautiful creature he had ever had the privilege of setting his eyes upon.

"I'll show you your new home, Willow and so much more if you'll let me."

He met her eyes as they sought his. A look of desperation came over them, as if she wanted his words to be true so badly that she ached inside for them. Drawing her closer into his body, he offered her shelter from those things that haunted her every moment. He felt her snuggle into him again searching for a body heat she would not find. Finally when she settled down she whispered sadly. "I can't let you…may I see the house now?"

A pain radiated off of the small woman in his arms. She was turning to him for comfort and all he could give her was a cold shoulder to lean against. He wanted so much to reassure her, to let her know that he could give her the world and then some. That if she'd let him, he'd give her everything her short life had obviously been missing—if only she'd let him.

"Rest against me now, Luv. There'll be plenty of time for me to convince you later. For now let me show you all that you now possess, for what is mine, is yours. It's a long tour, why not close you're eyes. I'll tell you when we get somewhere exciting." 

He could feel the smile against his chest, whether from relief or mirth, he couldn't be sure. "I couldn't possibly close my eyes, I've been waiting for this moment for…it seems like my whole life."

"It has been, Willow. Wait, you'll see, I'll show it to you." Moving away from the door, Spike stepped towards the hallway to the right. 

One side of the hallway was against the glass room and consequently had one side of candles and summer paintings and the other a see-through glass of exotic flora.Willow watched the leaves and half hidden flowers pass by as Spike carried her the fifteen feet or so it took to reach the wood door at its end. Shifting her weight to the right side of his body, Spike used the hand that held her legs to open the door.

Her first glimpse inside afforded Willow a view of a large, formal looking parlor room, which included a set of couches, chairs, and end tables that all matched with there dark cherry wood finish. The upholstery of the cushions was a deep reddish brown. 

Willow was instantly reminded that whoever decorated this room was most defiantly a vampire. 

Candles sat in elaborate scones and lit the room, along with a roaring fire that lay directly in front of her and Spike. To her right Willow saw twelve-foot tall, floor to ceiling windows, that were currently covered by dark maroon velvet drapes. Paintings were scattered decoratively along the walls. These, unlike the summer paintings in the entranceway, depicted people. Whom, she did not know.

"How well do you know the lay-out of Victorian houses? Do they even teach you that stuff in school these days?"

"Well, I mean, I know that this is the parlor room, where the residence of the manor would greet guests, but I didn't learn it in any class." A light blush fell across her features. "Um, I read it in a book, somewhere."

Spike let that one slide, he'd ask her about it later if it came up. "Good, then I don't have to tell you that this is one of my least favorite rooms in this place—"

"Wait!—What do you mean? How come you don't like this room?"

His voice took on a husky, sultry tone. "Come on, Luv. If you have to go into this room that means you have guests. And if you have guests, that means you have to stop whatever you were doing before they got here. Do you know how annoying that can be? Especially when you're doing something you don't want to be interrupted doing?"

An image of Spike being interrupted making love to Drusilla flashed through Willow's mind. "Yeah, I guess I understand what you mean."

"Good, then you know how annoying it is to entertain guest when you're trying to cook a Crème Brule." 

Willow didn't miss the wicked smile that settled onto his handsome features. "Ha, ha, very funny."

"It's not my fault you've got your mind in the gutter like that."

Blood rose to her cheeks and stained them a lovely shade of pink. "It was not."

"Willow, a word to the wise," she looked up at him. "Your heart rate picks up a little when you're lying." A hearty laugh left his sculptured mouth as he turned her around and took her back down the hallway they'd just come from.

Again crossing the foyer Spike carried her, down the opposite hallway and into the formal dinning room. It stretched over thirty feet long, with a grand table that nearly coincided with the length of the room. Against one wall was a massive stone fireplace that stood as tall as a man. Willow could only imagine the poor trees that had been sacrifice to feed the flames it would produce. Around the table were great winged-backed chairs, so many Willow couldn't count them as Spike carried her from that room and through a recessed door into the kitchen.

And what a kitchen it was. White marble flooring covered wall to wall, while the same covered the counter tops. Decorated entirely in white, Willow took in the old style stove and other appliances. She also noted absently that there was a refrigerator in a house without electricity; she filed that tidbit away for later.

"Think you could cook in this kitchen?" A broad smile trekked across his face.

"I've been cooking for myself since I was six, I think I can manage to cook in here." There was a calm in her voice that she wished wasn't there, it spoke volumes to her, and she knew, also to Spike.

"Doesn't sound like your mom was a great cook? Actually sounds to me like she was a pretty lousy mom all around."

Willow jerked her head up and glared at the vampire who held her so intimately against him. "You don't know anything about my family, so don't you even think to presume anything about what type of mother I had!"

"Had, Luv? As in used to have, like when you were two. I listened to Angelus when the Great Angel of Death was still around. Even he thought we should do you a favor and dine at your house."

He'd struck a cord, he could tell that. Her face seemed to fall and yet register that her terrible homelife was even a topic of the undead. Suddenly she began to struggle in his arms. "Willow quite that!"

"No! Put me down right now! I don't want you to touch me!" She struggled with more fever, pushing against his chest and kicking her feet.

"Willow stop! NOW!" His voice echoed around the twenty-foot kitchen, bouncing back and forth across the counter tops, stopping only when running full force into Willow, who had ceased her movements the moment Spike had yelled at her.

Spike shifted her back into a more comfortable position in his arms and regarded her for a moment. In that time, Willow's down cast eyes never met his and she seemed to curl into herself. It was then, at the point of her withdrawal from him, that Spike felt regret shoot through him like a blinding pain. "Ah Gods, Willow I'm sorry," His soft voice made her take pause in her retreat from him. "I didn't mean to scare you, Luv. I shouldn't have attacked you like that. For that I am sorry." Then suddenly his voice took on a ferociousness. "I however, will not ask for forgiveness for what I said about your mother—I meant it." 

The icy steel in his words caused Willow to look up at him. In his eyes she saw the anger she wished she could express about her long absent parents. She felt through him the raw pain and screams for revenge she wished so desperately she could enact. To him she only said. "It's ok."

He wasn't sure if she meant that she forgave him for scaring her or for his comment about her mother. Taking her reply to mean the first, Spike ran his thumb comfortingly along the thigh he was holding her up by. Pulling her more fully into his body where she'd been before her struggles he moved away from the kitchen and out another door and into another hallway.

Stepping into the foyer, Spike moved to the glass wall on the right hand side of the hall, and using his right hand, opened the glass enclosure. Humidity instantly hit both human and vampire as Spike stepped into the room and kicked the door shut with his foot. He maneuvered the two down a stone path that had been placed among the many plants and flowering bushes.

"This used to be Dru's favorite place to come during the day. She used to say that she could feel the sun's rays shinning through the house to kiss the plants. Of course she was always saying crazy stuff like that."

Willow, still a little confused about what had transpired between the two in the kitchen, was brought out of her reverie at Spike's confession. Looking around her, Willow felt the warmth, both physically and emotionally comforting. Moving one of her arms from around Spike's neck, Willow pulled a night blooming flower closer to her nose. The smell of Jasmine filled her body with the peace she'd misplaced in the kitchen. 

"I like it here."

Spike smiled, "I thought you might. Want to sit in here for a while? I could point out all the different types of flowers: I remember well having to learn all their names to please my dark Goddess."

Willow noted with surprise that he did not speak of Drusilla with as much reverence as she would have expected. Spike had spoken little about her since he'd brought her here. But from what Willow could glean from their conversations, Spike was either over her or had her buried deep inside himself to keep the pain of betrayal away. Willow understood betrayal. "Let's keep going, I want to see the rest of the house."

"Willow, Willow, Willow, do you still think this is but a house?" There was mirth in him as he spoke and Willow was glad to hear that mentioning Drusilla did not seem to cut him deeply.

"I know it isn't a house but mansion seems so…formal."

"Actually in the day it was called an estate. And this particular estate was—and is—called Windemere. It means—"

"'Home of the Wind'" she cut in. Then realizing she'd finished his sentence for him she blushed. "Giles made me learn a little Gaelic. That's what it is isn't it, Gaelic?"

"Yes, and you hit the translation right on the marker, good show, Luv."

His words, a small measure of admiration at her knowledge, swept through Willow like wild fire. She felt a rush of pride at her accomplishment and in herself. Not many people ever told her she'd done a good job. Willow was beginning to realize very quickly, Spike was no ordinary person.

"Show me more of Windemere."

"As the Lady commands."

What came next lay beyond the doors next to the stairs. The double sets of French doors led into the most amazing ballroom Willow had ever seen. Against where the stairs led up on the other side of the wall was a stage of sorts that would have housed—in the old days—a live band that would have played grand songs that begged to be danced to. Across the room on the right hand side stood another grand fireplace much like the one in the dinning room, only this was twice the size. The walls were lined with mirrors that made the ballroom seem three—four times the size it truly was which was huge. Along the far wall, interspersed between the mirrors, were French doors that led outside the manner, which Willow could not see for the light from half a dozen crystal candle-lit chandeliers reflected off the windows. The room was decorated in golds and whites, which added a pureness to the room that Willow found ironic since the estate was owned by a family of vampires.

Spike stepped into the middle of the room and stood facing the great fireplace, allowing Willow to soak up some of the heat it was spewing forth. Willow relaxed even more into Spike's embrace and allowed the heat of the last two rooms to lull her into a feeling of even deeper security. Her eyes strayed to the mirrors on the far wall and she watched in stunned silence as she seemed to float in mid-air as Spike cast no reflection. Absently she mumbled. "Reflections of the soul."

"Hmm, Pet?" Spike noticed where she was looking and sighed. "Vampires cast no reflection because they have no souls. You're right about that." Leaning into her he spoke softly into her ear. "But really, Luv, isn't it more fun to dance with a man who has no soul?" And with that Spike began to turn around and around, spinning a tight circle that had Willow clinging to him for stability and shrieking with merriment. She watched as the mirror image of her seemed to float and spin on the dance floor as if she were some Great Spirit come back for one last dance. 

When Spike deemed she'd had enough he stopped his turning to a small amount of protest by the girl in his arms. 

"Don't stop, please." She beseeched. 

"Don't you want to see the rest?" Was his only response.

Willow's nod sealed their fate and Spike left the ballroom behind and climbed the stairs to the second landing. 

At the top Willow noticed the two sets of double doors directly at the top of the stairs but dismissed them for later as Spike passed them and took the walkway to the left. Leaning over Spike's embrace, Willow looked over the railing at the ground floor and marveled at the height they were at. Windemere was a very, very grand estate.

At the first door he shifted her again and opened it to reveal what Willow took as a study. Inside was a large desk made from a solid looking wood. Two chairs sat in front of the desk and one comfortable looking chair sat behind it. The room was done in browns and greens. Two oil lamps stood in the far corners of the room with green glass lampshades. Deep green carpet ran the floor, while wooden bookshelves the same color as the desk lined the walls to the left and right. No windows were in the room and Willow reasoned that business must have been conducted by the vampires during the day in this very room.

"It's very…study-looking." Willow giggled at her inability to come up with a better adjective. "What I mean is it looks very, well, male." It was true, no respectable female would decorate the room in browns and greens, that was something only bachelors did.

Spike laughed, the motion rocking Willow gently, lovingly. "Oh Willow. It's true. As a matter of fact, I decorated this room on my own."

At his admission of her assumption, Willow laughed outright. Spike thought it was one of the most beautiful sounds he'd ever heard.

"You know, there's still more and this room can't even compare to the others I have yet to show you. What say we keep going?"

"I'd like that."

Outside in the hallway, Spike again bypassed the double sets of doors. "Spike?"

"Hm?"

"What about those doors?"

A coy smile drew itself upon Spike's face. "All in good time, Red. And only if you're a very good girl."

At Willow's grumble, Spike laughed out right and took the hallway to the right of the stairs which led to yet another flight of stairs. Willow reasoned that whatever was behind those doors Spike had yet to show her must be huge since it seemed to encompass the entire second floor. She wanted to go back and see it, there was something about the way Spike mentioned it that had Willow instantly on her best behavior.

At the top of the second flight of stairs, Willow recognized the hallway her room was located off of. Spike stopped at the beginning of the hallway and motioned with his head to the left side. "That side has all the extra bedrooms. The third door is yours, remember?" At her nod he continued. "Ok, first stop, one of my favorites."

Taking the first door to the right, Spike and Willow stepped into a beautiful recreational room. A pool table sat in the center of the room and Willow could see the cues against the far wall. On the left wall lay a dartboard and underneath that lay a circular table that Willow guessed was used to play cards. The room was again decorated in greens and browns, but here it looked more in place, like it fit the atmosphere of the room better. A brown leather couch sat under a window against the far wall, providing a place for people to sit when their turn at pool was over.

Willow instantly fell in love with the room. She felt connected to Spike in this room. Her feelings were all a jumble but he seemed to fit into this room better than all the rest; as if Spike could have been the gambling sort while he still breathed.

"I like this one."

Spike looked around the room and then back to Willow, "Me too. Something about the sport of it all." He smiled and Willow returned the gesture.

"Do you play pool, Luv?"

Thinking back to all the times she, Xander…and Buffy… had played, Willow nodded her head. "Yeah, a little, but I'm not very good."

"Posh! Luv, you'll probably play me under the table! Well, at least once you can hold a cue without wincing."

Suddenly Willow felt it again. That nagging feeling that she didn't really know what Spike had planned for her. That she was nothing more than a pawn in this game where she had no idea of the rules. She admitted to herself that she felt safe with him, why she didn't know, but she was willing to admit that at least. However, she had no idea of his plans for her or what he expected of her. Willow wasn't sure what was going on in the vampire's head and she wasn't sure if she wanted too.

Choosing to ignore the remark rather than hear again from him how she was his to do with as he pleased, she asked. "How about the rest?"

"On our way, Pet."

They moved down the hallway, past another door to their left which Spike told her was another bedroom. "That's the room for the blokes no one want's around. See how it's right next to the rec. room? On a good night, when the games go 'till the early morning, not even the dead can sleep in there. Makes most wankers leave in a real hurry."

The next door Spike entered turned out to be a nicely decorated sitting room.

Decorated in whites and other assorted soft colors, it definitely had a woman's touch. Lace curtains in the purest white hung over the windows and Willow knew if given the chance she would love to come here during the day to soak up the sun. Beautiful white couches with floral patterns rounded the walls while a naturally light colored wood Willow couldn't name made intricately carved end and coffee tables.

Spike said something about this being one of his least favorite rooms and Willow couldn't help the barb that escaped her lips. "That's probably because you'd go 'Poof' if you came in here."

"How right you are, how right you are. Sun light isn't good for my complexion you know."

"Ah ha." Their laughter carrying them out of the room.

After entering the hallway again, Spike took Willow to the last door that happened to be at the opposite end from the stairs they'd first come up. A huge set of double oak doors in a deep stain stood before her and Willow was slightly creeped out by their ominous appearance. 

"This is my room." It was all he said, and yet Willow felt his seeming apprehension about his words, almost as if he was still convincing himself of their truth. 

Willow looked into his face and caught his eyes. "You don't have to show me, if you don't want too."

Suddenly he squeezed her tighter to his chest causing Willow to wrap her arms more tightly in response around his neck. "No Willow, I want to show you." He paused. "I think you'll like it."

Opening the doors in front of them, Spike carried her over the thresh hold like a new bride. Willow would have noticed the foreshadowing of that particular act if she hadn't been stunned to silence by the breath taking beauty of the room before her.

All around her was excellence. Directly in front of her was another massive fireplace surrounded by two wing back chairs. To her left were two doors, one in the middle of the wall, the other to the left. But it was to the right of the door that had caught Willow's breath, for there before her sat a bed on a platform of the most exquisite design.

It took two steps up of plush carpet to reach the platform bed. Willow's stunned brain noted that the bed was too large not to have been custom made. Reasoning it most likely was made for at least three people her mind again flashed back to the vampire family that must have resided here. The wood of the four poster bed was stained in a dark almost black color and the canopy that draped from the bars connecting the four posters and wrapped around the posts was of velvet black. The coverlet, like the canopy, was made of black velvet but the sheets that peeked over the lip were of a red—almost brown satin. The ten or so pillows that lined the head of the bed were a mixture of black velvet and the red-brown satin of the sheets. Willow felt a need to just lay on the bed and soak up the love and affection that must have been confessed upon it. Blushing at her train of thought she broke her gaze with the bed and looked up at Spike, only to fine him staring at her.

"It's the type of bed Lady Gadiva would have slept in, don't you think?"

He was teasing her and she knew it, knew he'd seen her face when she'd thought of just touching the magnificent piece of human craftsmanship. "I suppose. It's not something an ordinary person would sleep in."

"How so?"

"Well…it's not something I'd sleep in."

Willow watched his eyes catch the light coming from the fire across from them. "Well Willow, good thing no one in this house is an ordinary person."

She didn't miss it, couldn't miss the implications behind his words, and a part of her, a part she was afraid to listen to screamed its agreement with his statement and implications. Not wanting him to see what that part of her wanted, Willow broke eye contact and gestured to a door she'd just seen a few feet to the left of the bed. "What's through there?"

Spike allowed her change of subject. "That Red, is the master bathroom. Care to take a look?" At her nod, Spike moved past the bed of Willows distraction and entered the bathroom. Once inside he set Willow on one of the counter tops and moved to a scone on the wall. "I can see just fine in here but I'm guessing you'll have a hard time."

"Why is it that in all the rooms we've been to have always had fires going or candles lit? Even the chandeliers were lit. Just how many people are in this place anyway?"

Spike lit the scone and moved to the next one. "I knew I was going to show you around tonight. I figured I'd better light the old place up a bit or you wouldn't be able to see much; that or I'd always be putting you down to light the rooms up." He caught her eyes, in the light of the match he was using to blaze the scone. "And besides you and I, Pet, there's no one here."

Willow felt a shiver run down her spine at being alone with Spike; whether from fear or something else, she didn't know. Just then the candle Spike was holding caught and Willow took the distraction afforded her to look around the bathroom. Against the wall was a large two-person shower stall. But it was the bathtub that caught her attention. Two steps led up to its lip before the tub sank into the provided platform. It was encased in white marble and again, looked like it was designed to fit three people conformably. Willow was amazed at the design of the estate and how it seemed to cater to vampires, and three at that.

"You must have been very happy here."

Startled by the question, Spike looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you, Drusilla, and Angelus must have been happy here."

Something in the silence that followed Willow's statement caused her to wish she hadn't said anything. Spike seemed to tense at her statement and she could see his hands balled up into fists. 

When he spoke it was with a note of reserved violence. "Actually Luv, my last memories of this place are not my favorite." He paused. "Why don't we agree on something?"

Willing to agree to anything he wanted so that he wouldn't look like he was in so much pain, Willow readily agreed. "Sure, anything."

"I won't mention how terrible your parents are, and you don't mention Dru or Angelus. Deal?"

She didn't hesitate. "Deal."

"Good, let's get you out of here and show you the rest of this place, uh."

Lifting her off of the counter and into his arms, Spike almost reached the door before Willow spoke. "I'm sorry Spike."

"Don't be, Willow, vampires in the closet and all that. Speaking of which, I think you'll like this room." His smile seemed to return some of his earlier lightness, but a deep-seated pain still remained behind his eyes. Willow returned his smile.

She nodded and Spike carried her across the room, past the roaring fireplace, to the door on the far-left side of the wall. Inside was a massive closet that housed what anyone else would have considered a wardrobe of historical memorabilia, but Willow knew were the clothes of the times worn when the estate was still occupied. Long flowing dressed hung beside distinguished men's formal suits. Willow could make out the hoops and petticoats that filled out the dresses around a corner and though Willow couldn't see them, she was sure if she looked hard enough she'd find a whale bone corset.

"They look wearable."

"Well they should, don't you think, for the price I paid for each and every one of them. They should survive a bloody nuclear war!"

"Spike, how much did you pay for them anyway? How about that dress over there?" She pointed to a delicate looking silk dress with enough fabric to make about half a dozen dresses nowadays.

"Oh I don't know, maybe forty pounds or so."

"Forty pounds! If my conversion tables are right, that's only about fifty dollars! What are you complaining about?"

"Luv, have you forgotten that I bought that dress almost two hundred years ago? Now let me see if my inflation table is right," he paused, letting her comment slap her jokingly in the face. "That would be about fifteen thousand dollars in today's money, I think. Sound about right to you?"

His smile was mocking, but in a friendly way—Willow hated it. "Oh shut up."

His laughter carried them out of the room and to the second door lining the left wall. Once through it, Willow was astonished at what lay before her, a glass enclosed balcony. Two and a half walls and the ceiling were made from glass and as Willow gazed out beyond the glass she saw in the inky blackness of night just a glimmer of what the estate truly looked like. Drawing her eyes away from the glass she noticed the small oil lamp burning on a whitewashed patio table. Two chairs surrounded the table giving it an inviting look.

"This is incredible!"

"Glad you like it. When I first had the place built the workers broke three or four panes of glass before they could lay it right, but I think it was worth it."

"It was."

His soft chuckle caused Willow to blush and then blush even deeper when she realized how many times she'd blushed just that night.

"Come on, Luv. I think you've had enough shock for one night."

As they left the balcony, Willow took one longing look back and vowed she'd come back to this place.

Spike carried Willow down the hallway to her room and upon entering, deposited her on the bed and went to check the fire. Willow was so overwhelmed with all that she'd seen she barley remembered Spike's promise until he'd come to turn down the bed and tuck her in.

"Spike?" She asked softly. "Do you think I was a good girl tonight?" She spoke the words and felt like a small child, one searching for praise from an adoring parent; which Willow was beginning to see as Spike.

"Course you were, Pet. Why do you…oh! Did I forget to show you something?" His wicked smile returned while at the same time Willow saw in his eyes his understanding of her question. He understood her. He understood her like no one else.

"Um, can I see that last room?"

Instead of answering he picked her up again and carried her down the hallway and then down the stairs to the second floor. Once there he stood in front of one set of double doors and waited.

Willow was getting impatient. "Um Spike, aren't we going in?"

Spike looked down and her and smiled. "Willow, do you think you can stand on your own?"

"Oh, sure, I think."

"Let's try, shall we?"

Placing her on her feet, and after making sure she had a good grasp on her balance, Spike reached for both door handles and push.

What lay beyond the doors rocked Willow on her feet so much so that Spike had to steady her by placing two hands on her shoulders. A massive library, the likes Willow had never seen lay before her in the fire lit room. Books to the twelve-foot ceiling lined the walls in front of her and to the left. Another fireplace, the size of a grown man lay to the right with floor to ceiling windows on either side. A plush brown carpet fell across the floor, except against the wall, which was wood, to provide ease traction for the multiple wheeled ladders that rounded the room. Chairs of all design and a few leather couches were scattered about along with a few tables and one great table that seemed to house a cubby of maps and other such scrolls below it.

Willow made a move to take her first step into the room but a sudden pull on her abdominal muscles caused her to wince and cry out. She grabbed for her stomach and would have fallen to the floor if Spike's strong arms had not reached out and caught her. He lifted her into his embrace and spoke quietly into her ear, almost a whisper. "Command me where to take you, Lady."

Leaning into him for the comfort she so richly needed, Willow answer the only way she could. "Everywhere."

Again Spike carried her over the thresh hold of the room and towards the fire. Once there he placed her slight frame into one of the chairs and turned it so she could gaze into the depths of the room he had know she'd treasure above all others.

He watched her eyes travel first over one bookcase and then another, absorbing as much as she could by the light of the fire. Her skin was flush from her near fall and the heat of the fire and Spike noted how much a noble woman she looked then sitting in a chair built for royalty. Kneeling down beside her he raised his hand to her chin and drew her face around to look at him.

"Do you like your surprise?"

She could barley speak. "Yes."

"Tell me a title of a book you wish to read. I'll get it for you."

Willow took her mind from staring at Spike's perfection long enough to register that he had not said he would look for the book, only that he would bring it for her. Wanting him to move away from her and take the strange feelings she was developing for him away also she spoke. "Why don't you get me the book you like the best." At Spike's raised eyebrow, "The book a person holds as their favorite tells a lot about them, don't you think?"

Nodding his head, Spike stood and moved across the room and around a corner Willow had not seen when she'd first entered. Now sitting by the left wall, Willow could see that the library wrapped around the entire second floor, leaving space only for Spike's study, the hallway, and the staircase up and down. The sheer volume of books here rivaled almost any library Willow had ever been to, and made the Sunnydale Library look like a child's bookcase. Willow traced the books with her eyes, following them from left of the fireplace, down around a corner and back up the wall before meeting with the doors, then continuing above the doors to the next and then around the other corner Spike had turned down. Willow could hardly wait until she was strong enough to peruse the books herself. Until then, she was content letting Spike help her.

The last though stunned Willow and she was so engrossed with her mental dialogue trying to figure out when she had begun to allowed Spike to see her weakness, that she didn't see him approach and kneel before her.

"Willow?"

Startled she looked up guiltily. "Sorry, I got lost for a second."

Understanding seeped into his eyes. "Take your time, I'll be here to help you find your way back home, always."

"You will…won't you?"

"Yes."

A weight lifted off of Willow at his words and again she didn't know what to think about this man who was suppose to kill her, and instead had taken her mind and…heart…captive. The part of her that still called for death screamed at her that he was dangerous, that he would only betray her like the rest; that she was better off not giving him a second thought and just begging for death. However a larger part of her sunk into the compassion he seemed to feel for her and the gentleness he used only made her want to remember, if only for a time, that there was another option besides death. She didn't know what she wanted, she didn't know who she could trust.

"What book did you pick?"

"See for yourself." He handed her the book and the moment Willow saw the title she started laughing.

"Um, Pet, what's so funny?"

"Oh my Goddess! You never saw that movie with Mel Gibson, and Julia Roberts did you?"

"Don't recall seeing a lot of movies and none in the last ten years or so. Want to fill me in, Luv?"

"Did you know that serial killers have like ten copies of this book in their homes? It's like, have this book and you automatically have to kill people for fun."

"Willow, I do kill people for fun."

She stopped laughing. It wasn't funny anymore. He was right, in a way he was a serial killer. The worst kind; the kind that came out at night and terrorized the innocent, killed those that had no hope of defending themselves. He was a demon, what better serial killer could you hope to get? One without a conscious, one that felt no guilt, no remorse, only the need to find another victim and end their own hunger.

She shivered, she couldn't help it. The severity of the situation she was in came crashing down on her and she realized she had no one to blame but herself. Pushing herself to a standing position, she moved to stand in front of one of the windows, her back to Spike the book he'd brought still in her hand. The title, "The Catcher In The Rye" catching the firelight.

"Willow?"

She wanted to answer him, wanted to forget what he was, what he'd done to her in the past; but now she couldn't. Now she wouldn't allow herself to. He was a killer, she had to remember that; and she either had to get him to kill her, or die trying. There was no other way; she couldn't live with the other way.

"When will you kill me, Spike?"

Again she'd stunned him into silence. The night had gone well as far as Spike knew, then all of a sudden she wanted to die again; it didn't make sense. He needed answers and he needed them now.

"Tell me why you want to die, Willow."

"No."

"Why not!"

She turned to look at him, her face hollow and dark in the firelight. "I don't trust you."

Standing Spike moved to her. Turning her back around so that she was facing the window, he wrapped his arms around hers and clasped his hands just below her breasts. He stood there for a long while, feeling Willow struggle with herself not to relax against him. When she finally failed and leaned into his embrace he spoke again.

"I want you to trust me, Willow. I need you too. So if I have to be the first one to bend, then I will." He could feel the question in her posture as she tried to turn and look at him, only to have him hold her steady, flush against his body. "I trust you, Willow. I do. To prove my trust in you, I give you free reign of this house. You may go anywhere and everywhere in it, both during the day and at night. I ask only three things: one that you don't over do it while you're still recovering from you injuries; two that you don't leave this house under any circumstances; and three, that you will call on me at anytime, should you have need of me. Can you do those three things for me…Willow?"

"You give me too much freedom. You know I wish to die and now you give me the means to do it myself. You are very foolish."

"No, I don't think so." Lifting her chin, he brought her face to look up at his. "If you truly wanted to kill yourself, Willow, you would have done so by now. It's hard to keep a man or woman from taking their own life if they so choose. No, I think you won't kill yourself for the same reason you asked me to kill you back in Sunnydale; you know in your heart that you don't want to die." At the shake of her head against his words he continued. "You don't want to die, Luv. It just seems easier that way, less painful. No, you don't want me to kill you and you don't want to kill yourself; you want someone to save you…save you from yourself." Her eyes were blank as they stared into his own and Spike knew that at least some part of her recognized he now understood.

"I trust you, Pet. I trust you to wait for me…to wait for me to save you from yourself. Promise me you'll follow the rules, Luv, and I'll let you free so you can learn to trust me."

She was so confused. She didn't know what to do. He was right and yet he was wrong; wrong to think that she wasn't desperate enough to stop the pain and yet right in that she wasn't strong enough to do it herself. She wanted death, she craved it, and yet at the same time she wished for peace, the kind that she had never known in her short life time, the kind she was beginning to think this wayward vampire could bring her. She wanted peace.

"You're a fool to trust me, Spike. But I…agree. I'll follow all the rules."

"Willow…Pet…Luv, I promise you, I'm no fool. I only make safe bets. You'll see."

Something in his words, in his voice, made Willow think, for just a moment, that he could really be the one, the one to bring her peace.

She allowed him to lift her into his arms and carry her back upstairs to her room. Once there she fell into a deep sleep, staged in a house with doors that led to hope and doors that led to quiet oblivion.


	6. You Spent How Much On Groceries!

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Chapter 6 "You Spent How Much On Groceries?!"

Water pored forth from the sky as the gods made their pain known to man and demon alike. Through it he ran towards the cliffs that over looked the ocean that stretched over lost cities and buried the victim of the deep from hunting eyes. He slipped, mud covering him from head to toe. He growled and then went on desperately through the rain, though the tears of the immortals calling for her. "WILLOW!!!"

"WILLOW!"

Spike sat up in bed, the silk sheets clinging to his body like drenched clothes in the storm. Hands shaking from reaction to his nightmare, Spike allowed his face to move into his hands and waited while the heart—that should not be beating in his chest—ceased its pumping.

Shaking his head back and forth to clear out the visions of his search, Spike remembered the earlier part of the dream. Willow walking towards him, a sad expression on her face, begging him to let her do something, pleading with him. At first he'd refused, he was worried for some reason he couldn't remember; then he'd decided that it would be good for her, maybe get her to trust him a little more. So he'd let her do—something, he wished he could remember what. He remembered moving around the house and then this period of time where she'd been so happy, laughing and singing, her face a glow with an inner light that spoke of happiness, trust and love, all directed towards him. He couldn't remember being happier as they danced in the ballroom and spoke animatedly about their growing feelings for each other. He remembered realizing the love she suddenly felt for him, he knew…

Then it had changed. He'd been alone wondering where Willow was, he wanted to talk with her; when suddenly he couldn't hear her heart beat, couldn't sense her in the house. So he'd ran to the window, ran to it just as the sun peeked above the crest of the water and he'd seen her, his Willow, running towards the cliffs; a dress of pure white wrapped about her body, incasing it in yard after yard of dense fabric. He didn't know why now but he knew in the dream that she was crying, could sense the tears falling from her eyes as he watched her head towards the cliffs—to the place where she would jump.

The feeling of being trapped in Windemere suffocated him as he watched her race towards her death. He saw her rise to the top of the cliff—just at the top so she was silhouetted by the rising sun—before in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

The storm had come out of no where, blanketing the land in its grief and misery. With the sun gone behind the storm the sky was like night and Spike felt himself drenched in bitter cold rain as he raced towards the cliffs, towards Willow.

Running his hands through his short hair, Spike stood from the bed and stretched, loosening the muscles that felt like he'd gone three rounds with the slayer. Peeling the clothing off of his body, he took a quick shower and dressed in black pants and a black turtleneck sweater before heading down the hall to awaken Willow.

At the door he knocked and when he received no answer he assumed her asleep and entered. No heartbeat. No red haired sleeping beauty. Only an open window and the cool sea air blowing in.

***

Willow was pissed. Anyone with two eyes could see that, hell even someone with one bad eye could tell she was about ready to scream.

"I said, HELLO! Can you hear me? Of course you can hear me, you're looking right at me! Hello!!! Do you speak English?"

The man before her dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a tee-shirt stating (Insert Irish Beer), was walking back and forth from the front door. He moved through the foyer and back down the second hallway to the left to the kitchen door, where he was dropping off the sacks of groceries he'd carried in from the mini-van parked in front of the stone steps leading up to the front door of Windemere. Then dutifully walking back out the kitchen, down the second hallway to the left, through the foyer—where Willow was standing—and back out the front door, to the mini-van for yet another few sacks. All the while he would stare at Willow as he walked by but refused to even utter a syllable in her direction.

"OH COME ON! I know you can hear me!" Then suddenly her hands flew to her mouth and covered it. "Oh goddess, you're not mute are you?"

A deep laugh that sounded of humor and relief, rang out over the foyer. Willow looked up and glared at Spike as he descended the stairs and strode towards her, a determined look in his eye.

"He's not dumb, Luv. What are you doing up so early?"

"He isn't? Then why the hell won't he say something? I feel like I'm talking to a silent movie. And it's not early, its almost six PM!"

"You're not in a silent movie. And he's not talking to you because I told him not to. And you, Kitten, usually don't get up until around seven or eight. Well at least since you started keeping vampire hours, that is. Now I would have thought you'd have been up and about after I showed you the house and told you you could go anywhere during the day. But no, instead for the last five days all you've done is sleep. Now I told you not to over do it but Pet, I'm starting to worry about you getting too much beauty sleep. I mean look what it did for that Sleeping Beauty chit. She slept for a hundred years and well, she didn't look that much better than when she fell asleep. You know, maybe all that beauty sleep is nothing but a load of crap." Spike shrugged his shoulders. "Oh well, not my problem."

Willow shook her head and tried to make sense of everything Spike had just said. Over the course of the last five days she had awoken during the day, dressed, and waited patiently for Spike to fetch her in the evening after he awoke. She knew Spike had given her free reign of the house but on the first day she'd ventured out she'd felt so alone in the vastness of it that she'd returned to her room with a book from the library only a few hours later. It felt too much like her parent's home in Sunnydale to be in the house, "seemingly" alone.

Since then she'd simply waited for Spike. She didn't mind, taking the time to just rest herself. Also, she was finally getting some sleep. Ever since she was a little girl, Willow had been unable to sleep. The doctors had said it was all psychological and had told her parents to enroll her into therapy. In reality, Willow was just afraid to sleep by herself, alone in the house. In the end her parents had done nothing and over time, Willow had learned to make do on three to four house of sleep a night.

But since coming to Windemere, she'd sleep every night, seven, even eight hour of sleep; she'd never felt so refreshed and…well…safe.

Dragging her mind back to Spike she noticed he was looking at her, almost memorizing her face, looking for something. "What?"

"Uh? Oh nothing, Pet. You were going to tell me what you're up so early for."

"Um, no I wasn't. I was going to ask you something…something about…oh, something about that guy! Right, how come that guy won't talk to me? Oh wait, you already answered that, didn't you? What did you say again? Oh yeah." She paused, then. "What do you mean you told him not to talk to me!? Why not!?"

"Calm down, Willow. It's not that big a deal." He studied her again. "You're not putting on as much weight as I wanted you to have by now. Let's get you into the kitchen for something to eat."

"Uh? No I don't want to eat! Damnit, I want to know why that guy isn't allowed to talk to me!" Just then the afro mentioned guy walked right past Willow and back out the door. "Ahhhhhh!!!!!"

"That's it, it's too early for theatrics!" Grabbing Willow's hand, Spike half drug Willow to the kitchen. Once inside, he swung her in front of him, put both hands on her hips, and lifted her onto the counter. That done, he moved to the refrigerator and opened the door. "What type of sandwich do you want, Luv?"

Instead of answering, Willow reached into the sack of groceries closest to her, pulled something out of it and threw it with all of her strength at Spike's head.

Faster than her eye could see, Spike caught the flying object, looked at it and smiled at her. "Thanks, Luv. How'd you know I needed the bread?"

Willow rolled her eyes and tried to bring him back to the topic at hand. "Spike, tell me!"

"What's to tell, Willow. I already told you that I told Mat not to say a single word to you." Turning his head from opening the bread he caught her eyes. "No one talks to you but me."

The way he said it sent shivers down Willow's spine. She didn't speak; instead she expended all of her energy thinking of why Spike wouldn't want the man—Mat—to speak with her. Suddenly she figured it out, it was so simple.

"You don't want me to know where I am! That's it, isn't it? You don't want Mat's accent to give it away! Oh Spike you kill me, well, not really, but I already know that we're in the Pacific Northwest somewhere. We'd have to be, I mean it's nearly summer yet it's still raining and kinda cold outside! So if you're worried about me figuring out if we're in Washington or Oregon, then don't panic. I wouldn't know that the sound of the letter "R" will tell you exactly which state you're in." 

A wide cocky smile spread over Spike's full lips as he turned to face Willow. "Hate to burst your bubble, Willow but we're no where near the Pacific Northwest." And with that, he turned around and went back to making her sandwich.

Willow sat on the countertop and stared at Spike, stunned. She couldn't imagine not being in Washington or Oregon. It wasn't possible! "No way Spike, I mean really! Look, we have to be in the Pacific Northwest. I mean, just look at the weather!"

"Do you like mayonnaise on your sandwich, Luv?"

"Yes, just a little. What I don't understand it why you want me to think we're not there. The least you could do is be a gracious looser and concede when you're wrong. Come on, tell me. Are we in Washington or Oregon? Please tell me, I'm going to find out sooner or later."

Putting the knife down, still white with left over mayonnaise, Spike moved towards Willow and lifted her off the counter. Taking her hand again, he walked her towards the wide expanse of windows that looked out towards the water.

Placing her in front of him, Spike wrapped his arms around her, effectively trapping her arms by her sides. Unconsciously, Willow leaned into his body, comforted by the strength that emanated from him. Leaning his head down so he could speak directly into her ear he pointed a finger out the window and said. "What do you see, Willow?"  
"The ocean, and the back yard…can you call it a back yard? I mean it's so big, shouldn't it have a formal name or something like that?"

Ignoring her last statement, he pointed again and said. "What do you see, Willow?"

"Um, Spike I already answered that question but if this is a trick, I don't want to play anymore." She tried to escape his arms but Spike reflexively tightened his hold on her.

"What don't you see, Luv? What should be there but isn't?"

"I don't know! Just tell me already! And what does this have to do with Washington or Oreg—"

Suddenly she understood, understood like she knew why Mat couldn't speak to her. Outside the window at six PM, Willow Rosenburg could not see the sun. It wasn't that it was covered by clouds or that it was already too dark, instead she couldn't see the sun because the sun wasn't setting on this body of water, it was moving away from it. 

"The sun," was her weak reply.

"Right, now if we were on the West Coast, shouldn't the sun be setting towards the water?" He already knew the answer, Willow wasn't going to stroke his ego more for him. Instead, she stood there stunned and shaken as he moved away from her and went to work on the sandwich.

That feeling stole over her again; the one that accompanied her absolute knowledge that Spike controlled everything. As far as she was concerned, Spike was god to her. He commanded, she obeyed, that simple. Willow looked out to the water examining the waves as they formed and then disappeared beneath the cliffs and her watchful eyes.

"We're on the East Coast?"

Spike said nothing.

"How did you get me all this way? How?" She didn't know, didn't know if she wanted to know. He was a mystery, a man—vampire—with a power over her that he could abuse but instead seemed only to use it to take care of her. She didn't know if she wanted to know.

"It doesn't matter, Luv. Here's your sandwich. Why don't you come sit down and eat? You really could stand to put on some weight."

She moved as if in a dream, from her spot at the window to the chair he held out for her. He placed the sandwich in front of her and when she did nothing, he moved her hand and placed the bread into it. "Now come on, Luv. You don't want me to feed you again do you?"

That seemed to snap Willow out of it. Taking a bite, she looked at Spike. She saw that she had two choices, either scream and rant until Spike told her where she was—which probably wouldn't work—or pretend like she'd never asked the question in the first place.

"How come the refrigerator runs but there's no heat?" 

She made her decision.

Spike laughed, almost as if he was relieved. "It's got a generator. You have no idea how bloody marvelous that invention is! I remember having to go half away across town to get milk out of the river. Then there was the ice box, which was really nothing but a bloody pain in the ass considering you had to make sure the ice truck didn't miss you or all your food was a lost cause."

Willow smiled and shook her head in understanding. She could live with her decision. "Is that the only thing that runs by generator?"

"Mostly. The water gets heated by it and then there's the washing machine in the basement; but don't worry, you'll never have to see that thing." Spike gave a mock shake in fear. "Basements and rats, well, our basement doesn't have any rats but you get the picture."

Again Willow nodded, then reached for the other half of the sandwich. "The stove? Does it use the generator too?"

"Yep, trusty old stove. In the day when there were wood stoves, forget it, nothing ever cooked evenly. If you've ever had a cake cook on one side and still be runny on the other you'd understand."

Willow giggled, she couldn't help it; he could be so charming. "Why don't you just put electricity throughout the whole house. Wouldn't that make life easier?"

"Easier?! Luv, do you have any idea how much an electrician costs?"

"No, why?"  
"Let's just say that it would cost more for me to run wire through this house than half the cost was to build it! Not really fancying the bill."

Laughing, Willow finished her sandwich and looked around the kitchen. "Well, I guess we better put away this food before it spoils."

"Smart thinking, Willow."

The compliment didn't go unnoticed.

Rising from their chairs, Willow and Spike began to sort through the mounds of groceries. Roughly thirty bags filled the kitchen and carried a wide variety of goods, from food to drug store essentials. Willow blushed as she pulled out a box of tampons and quickly pushed it back into the bag, choosing to use that one for any other personal products that might be revealed in the unpacking.

A few minutes later found Spike with the fridge door open trying unsuccessfully to stuff four bags worth of vegetables into a space for less than one and a half. "Bloody ice box designers! What do they expect, of course everyone's going to bloody eat out, there's no room for any real food in here! Look at this Pet, not even a place for vegetables! Not to mention a bloody turkey!"

From across the room came Willow's heartfelt agreement and laughter.

They worked for about fifteen minutes separating things into piles, pantry, freezer, and refrigerator. As Willow gazed at the heaps of food around her a sudden question popped into her mind. "Are we having a party? I mean there's so much food here!"

"Nope, don't worry, Luv, no one's going to eat anything you really wanted. Now, how am I going to fit this in there…"

But Willow wasn't listening. All around her she began to look critically at the foodstuffs. Adding everything in her head she estimated about three months worth of food on the kitchen floor alone, not to mention some of the stores that were already present. Three months worth. That thought hit her like a ton of bricks. Spike was planning on keeping her for at least three months. No quick death, no fast retreat from existence. No, three months at least before he sent Mat out for more food. All around her the food and stores seemed more and more like a death sentence and less and less like something that would sustain her.

"How…" Spike turned in her direction, eyeing her quizzically. "How long are you planning on keeping me here?"

He sighed, there wasn't anything else he could do besides hit some sense into her. "Look Willow, let's not get into this again, alright. We've been over the blasted thing a hundred times." Turning away from her, Spike continued to put the rest of the vegetables away.

Noting the tone of voice Spike was using, Willow remained silent. The weight of her predicament again resting solely on her shoulders. She'd bare the burden in silence.

A sudden movement caught her attention at the kitchen entrance. In the doorway stood Mat, watching her with uninhibited interest. Not to be outdone, Willow herself returned his intent gaze. She was about to try talking to him again when Spike finally noticed the man's appearance.

"Are you done bringing everything in?" When Mat nodded, Spike returned the nod and looked to Willow. "Stay here and I'll be right back. Why don't you finish putting the rest of this food away."

There was no warning to the sudden flash of fear that coursed through Willow. She'd been alone before, numerous times in fact—perhaps her whole life—but suddenly Willow didn't want to be alone. Slivers of cold fear slammed into her chest, fear of being all alone in the kitchen, fear that maybe she'd angered Spike so much he didn't want her to go anywhere with him. She protested. "No, I'll—I'll go with you."

"I said, stay here!" Spike nearly shouted and took a menacing step towards her. Willow's eyes went wide and her fear of being alone was completely disregarded for this new fear of Spike. Retreating from him, Willow backed up into a counter and put her head down and gave a slight nod trying not to make eye contact with Spike.

Regret spiraled through Spike but now was not the time to show it. Giving her instructions to again put the food away, he moved out of the room, Mat right on his heels.

Willow breathed deeply, willing her heart to stop beating quite so fast. With a few more calming breaths she moved towards the food and tried to analyze what had gone wrong. She figured Spike was angry because she'd disobeyed him but then again she had said 'No' to him before and had never been yelled at. She was confused, and as the piles of foodstuffs were put away her mind still could not make any sense of it. 

However a new thought entered her mind. As she looked into the refrigerator, she noted the apparent lack of vampire nourishment—blood. Looking about the kitchen she pulled out drawer after drawer looking for blood—or more importantly, something to keep her mind off of Spike's outburst. After a few minutes of this, and still nothing, Willow pulled out a chair and sat down, effectively waiting for Spike to return.

She didn't have to wait long. After barley enough time to sort out her jumbled thoughts, Spike entered the kitchen, took one look at her, and hung his head in apparent shame. Surprised, Willow watched as he crossed to her chair and knelt by her feet. When he looked up, she could see regret written plainly on his face.

"Willow," Spike took the hand closest to him and held it, running his thumb across her palm. "I'm…I'm sorry I yelled. I really messed up. I wasn't mad at you, Luv. I—well, it's complicated. But I'm not mad at you, only sorry that I didn't pick up on your increased heart rate 'till after I'd yelled."

Willow gave him a questioning look. "That's what I mean, I'm stumped too. How come when I said I would be right back, you got so scared?"

He'd caught her, called her on the one thing she didn't have an answer too—well, one thing of many it seemed. Taking her hand from his, she cradled it in her other hand, as if just by allowing herself to touch him, she'd loose the answer herself. Shrugging her shoulders she looked up at him again and gave a weak smile. "I don't know. Doesn't matter."

"No, Willow, it does matter. What happened?"

"Nothing, I—I just didn't want to say in the kitchen. I guess I didn't want to have to put all the food away myself." She tried to smile, to laugh it off as nothing, but she could see from his face it wasn't working.

Then as if he realized she didn't have any more answers than he did he changed the subject. "Oh, Luv, come with me. I've got a huge present for you!" Like a giddy schoolboy, Spike pulled Willow from her seat and half dragged her in his haste across the kitchen floor. Out through the hallway, past the foyer, and down the first hallway to the left that led into the parlor, Spike pulled Willow along. 

When he pulled open the door, the first thing Willow noticed was something wasn't right. She'd avoided this room, not liking the many portraits of the dead that hung on the walls. But now as she looked about, she realized the curtains were drawn back as if to air the room out and on every available surface were stacks and stacks of white boxes. All sizes ranging from those that looked like they could hold nothing but a small piece of jewelry to boxes that came up to her waist. 

Turning to look at Spike, Willow watched him intently as he moved to retrieve one of the boxes and bring it back to her. Noticing she was still standing at the door, Spike took her hand and maneuvered her to one of the couches and after removing the boxes, had her take a seat.

Placing a box a little bigger than one that would normally hold a dress shirt onto her lap, Spike sat back on his heels and stared expectantly at her. When she didn't do anything he cocked his head and asked. "Well aren't you going to open it?"

Willow examined the box before her shaking it and hearing a light rattling sound she gave Spike a questioning look.

"You're not going to have any idea 'til you open it, Luv."

Carefully, so as not to damage the box, Willow worked the lid off and pushed aside the numerous pieces of tissue paper. What she uncovered took both her breath away and held her in place, frozen with happiness and fear.

A delicate dress of the purest white lay snuggled in the box on her lap. Willow could tell that it was made from silk by the mat-gloss of it. At Spike's request, Willow stood—while holding the shoulders of the dress—and let the box fall at her feet with the hem of the dress. She didn't have to try it on, she already knew it would fit, and fit perfectly. What she didn't know was why Spike had gotten her a dress of such exquisite beauty. If he only planned on keeping her alive until he was done playing with—but no, she was his, he would take care of her and if he wanted her to have this beautiful dress until her dying breath, then so be it.

"Do you like it, Willow?"

"Would you like me to put it on?"

Spike smiled and Willow made a move to exit the room. Suddenly Spike's strong arms wrapped about her waist and held her still. "You stay, Luv, I'll be right outside." With that, Spike released her and moved out of the room, leaving her to change.

Willow removed her clothes and then lifted the dress over her head and let the cool material shift and fall gracefully over her too thin frame. The white sleeves of the dress fitted her arms snuggly but not uncomfortably, then tapered into points that rested lightly over the tops of her hands. Running parallel to her spine was a row of delicate mother of pearl buttons that ran from mid thigh to right under her bust. Over her breasts was a gathering of the material, which accentuated her modest figure. At her thighs the dress split, revealing her legs, which would have been fine in this day of bikinis but in this dress she felt scandalous, an image of tempting innocence; a sacrifice to some great and terrible beast. Not knowing what to make of the dress, Willow moved to the door and beckoned Spike to reenter.

She watched his eyes run over her body and couldn't help the blush that suffused her skin with color. Instinctively, her hands raised to cover her too exposed breasts but then suddenly detoured and splayed flat against her stomach. Her posture spoke of a virgin bride on her wedding night, fearful and yet anticipating all of her dreams to come true.

Spike's smile extended past his eyes to his whole body. He seemed to Willow to be gazing at a beautiful painting he knew would be destroyed before the viewing was over. She didn't want to disturb the way he looked at her just now. She watched his hands shift as if to touch her only to return to his sides, as if he'd thought better of scaring her away. 

How it happened, she didn't know; didn't realized she had moved towards him until she felt his cool hands resting on her hips and a now questioning look in his eyes. She blinked, lost in her own spell and simply stared up at him. Willow felt him squeeze her hips, almost asking if it were all right that he rested them there, asking permission to touch her. 

It was liken to a shattering that caused Willow's resolve of indifference to fall about her like broken crystal, beautiful, but deadly. She melted against him, allow his body to support her slight weight as she ran her hands up to rest against his chest. His hands wound their way around her as he tucked her gently and firmly into himself. 

Willow felt the tears come unbidden to her eyes and they stung with their desire to be shed from the torment of her body. She shuttered once, twice, and then she couldn't stand it any longer. For the first time in her entire life she felt safe, from the world, from those things that were not a part of the world and yet still remained, and mostly from herself. In Spike's arms she found comfort, a need as great as her own to be loved, cherished, and needed. In the arms of a killer she found comfort from her own death.

Silent sobs shook her body as she wept for her lost life. She cried for Oz and Buffy, she cried for Xander and Cordelia, she wept for Angel, for Drusilla, for Spike, but mostly, she cried tears of pain for herself. 

She felt her body lifted by strong arms but couldn't stop the tears that now went in concert with great gasps of air as her body tried desperately to fuel the fires of her emotional release. The soft breeze against her face told her she was moving but she refused to look, wanting only to stay tucked in Spikes shoulder, away from a world that had given up on her a long time ago.

"Shhhh, Luv. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." His voice cut through her haze and Willow realized she was speaking, realized that as she sobbed. She was begging him not to leave her, pleading with him not to let her go. She tried to stop her voice, to gain control over one part of her life, but even the simple act of silence was too much and she gave into the temptation to ride the wave of feelings that suffused her being.

Spike rocked her gently, running cool and comforting hands over her heated and tear stained face. Willow's hand left Spike's chest and latched onto the hand that now lay against her cheek and held it there. His fingers curled around her face, anchoring this part of himself to her.

It wasn't spoken but his touch told her it was there. A mirror image of herself was reflected in Spike. He had control, he was old beyond her comprehension, and he was better at knowing what he wanted; better at realizing it without fanfare. Willow suddenly realized, what was really happening. Spike needed her as much as she needed him. He needed her comfort as much as she so desperately needed the solidness of his form. Strangely, knowing he was just as weak as she was a comfort. They were both lost, pushed away from everything and everyone they had ever loved; they were the same, only different.

Willow's sobs quieted until only the occasional hiccup could be heard from her lips. Yet still Spike rocked her and whispered soothingly into her ear nonsense sounds that had no meaning other than the soothing tone used to utter them. 

The night stretched on but still Spike held Willow locked in his embrace, giving and taking strength. Finally Willow lifted her head from his shoulder and looked into eyes so like the arctic sea.

"Thank you for the dress."

His hand brushed through her hair and around to the back of her neck. Pulling her forward, he placed a chase kiss on her forehead and whispered against her skin. "I hope you like it."

"I never dreamed of owning something as beautiful as it. I'll…I'll cherish it. Thank you."

His expression shifted and a wicked gleam entered his eye. "Well, we couldn't have you running around in holee jeans, and my shirts now could we? Besides this dress and the others in the boxes you haven't opened, seem more appropriate when in Windemere, don't you think?"

She nodded her head and then returned it to his shoulder. She rested there for some time before daring to ask her next question. "Will this change things?"

Spike understood the question. He'd been wondering the same thing himself, now he knew the answer. "Yeah, Luv, it changes everything."

"How?" was her almost scared response.

"I'm never going to let you go now."

Silence, then one more question to end this evening of revelations.

"Will you promise to take care of me?"

No hesitation.

"Yes."

The fire continued to burn in the fireplace as the soft glow caressed the two figures that sat intertwined in one of the many couches. The embers died away, burred out of existence, only to give life in their death. 

At dawn's light, the last of the fire was gone, but in its absence lay the beginnings of a new life for two very lost souls.


	7. Who's the Catcher in the Rye?

****

Chapter 7 Who's the Catcher in the Rye?

The eyes of the long dead stared at her from their permanent places on the wall. She stood by the window, her hand resting lightly in the curtains, watching the sea breeze caress the well-manicured grass. 

Her soul was heavy, that was the only way to describe the feeling that settled itself upon her shoulders and would not leave her. Nothing made sense anymore and as the days stretched farther and farther, she found herself loosing sight of everything. Spike's constant attention, the only thing keeping her grounded.

But she fought against even him. Demanding he prove himself to her again and again. Despair was her constant companion as every time she thought she could move forward—towards him—she found instead that she could only remain still. Something in her would not submit. And slowly but surely it was reaching out to destroy her. 

Her thoughts settled on Spike. Could he keep his promise, could he protect her against everything? Could he stop this thing inside of her that would not stop itself? 

She returned to the window but the glass held no more answers than her dying heart.

Spike…

***

Spike entered the parlor where he knew Willow would be. He'd awakened every night that week to find her here, sometimes sitting on the couch but most often standing by the window looking at something he couldn't see.

He paused to look at her. She was still too thin, but he was beginning to think she always would be. Her body seemed to have a natural metabolism and no matter how much food he fed her, she never seemed to gain any weight. That however, didn't mean he was going to stop trying. Her hair hung lightly, just above her shoulders. It's brilliance reflecting the firelight. Skin pale, he knew humans needed sun, but when he'd asked her about spending her days in the upstairs sitting room she'd simply said she preferred her room.

Suddenly she turned; he must have made a sound. Her green eyes caught his and held him captivated by the look he saw there. It was the same as all the other nights. That same look would come into her eyes and he knew the question she would ask because it was the same one she asked every night.

Stepping way from the door he moved in behind her and spooned his body to hers. His arms wrapped about her, trapping her against him, his willing captive. Resting his chin on the top of her head, he spoke. "Good evening, Willow. Did you sleep well?"

She nodded her head and then relaxed her body into his as if she'd needed to hear his voice, confirming for herself that he was actually there, still at her side—that he hadn't abandoned her—before she would allow any weakness to show. His hands were clasped under her breasts and she moved her hands to cover his. He moved his head and nuzzled the side of her neck, laying a light kiss on her collarbone. "I'm still here, Luv. It's ok."

Lifting her head she looked into his face, looking again for that something she so desperately needed from him. The look, it was the same, always the same. The memories came to him, crashing into his senses.

The first night after Willow had broken down in his arms, he'd been in the library sitting on one of the couches reading the well loved copy of "The Catcher in the Rye." Willow had entered the room at some point and he watched her walk around the library aimlessly.

She would stop at one bookcase or another but never pulled out one of the books, only examined the titles and then moved to the next. She'd seemed like a waif to him, a ghost that had entered the library of a long forgotten past to reminisce. 

Another of the long dresses he'd brought in from town adorned her body, draping over every curve, adding even more to her natural beauty. The white dress pulled the color from her skin and made her look even paler than she was. For a moment, she looked so much like his dark goddess that only the color of her hair helped make the difference know.

Wordlessly, she moved to the doors, only to think better of it and return to the bookcases. He saw her reach for one of the many latter's, only to again disregard it and move to the next shelf. One by one, she absorbed the titles but never once lifted one to examine. She seemed lost, looking for something and yet, not.

Through it all Spike had remained where he was, laying across the couch watching her intently. More than once he'd thought to call to her, ask her what was wrong, but he knew he couldn't. Just as before, he knew she needed to come to him. The night before, when she'd broken apart in his arms, had only been the first step. Now his beautiful Red Queen needed to come to him again, needed to realized that he could help her but she had to be the one to ask.

Heartache fell across him. Such a new emotion for a man long dead and even longer dead his heart. But he felt such overwhelming pain as he sat watching Willow struggle with herself. He wanted to ease her agony, take all the things that haunted her short life and destroy them, shred them into tiny pieces and let them fly on the wind. And he would, he'd show her pleasures she'd never dreamed to imagine, he'd tempt her with delights few in the world ever had the privilege of seeing, he'd give her anything her heart desired; but first she had to come to him and ask.

Finally after nearly an hour, she walked over to the fireplace and stood next to it, absorbing the heat it gave off. She rubbed her arms trying to warm them; but it wasn't cold that suffused her body, but fear. Spike knew, understood because if it had been within his ability, he too would be shaking. So much of the rest of their lives rode on her next move. Everything that could be or would be, rested in her hands, hands that were so very worn and cold.

She moved from the fire and with hesitant steps, stood before Spike and gazed at him. Still he said not a word, only looked at her with what must have been quizzical eyes. Her return look was one that gave away nothing. She was so very lost, lost so much that even she didn't know how to call for help. In the end, she only prolonged the game.

"Will you promise to take care of me?" The same question as the night before, the same desperate plea. Reassurance. A promise. Would he deny her, retract his promise? Could she trust him?

"Yes, I promise." There was no fanfare, no long declarations of forever and always, there didn't need to be. She'd eventually learn he always kept his promises.

She said not a word, nor did she nod her head in acceptance. Instead she lifted his arms away from his chest, where it had situated while he'd watcher her move, and settled herself on the edge of the couch. A long pause followed and Spike could see she was struggling with something, something she was so very afraid of. But she'd done enough for one night. She didn't have the strength to end the game tonight but she had continued it; she wasn't ready to give up yet.

Reaching his arm around her waist, he drew her slight body down and against his chest, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder. For a moment she was still as stone, ridged in his arms, and then as if she no longer had the desire to fight, she sunk into him, molding her body into his. Eventually she shifted onto her side to get more comfortable, laying her right arm across his chest for comfort and stability.

"What are you reading?"

"My favorite book."

She seemed to think on this a moment, before saying. "You're still a killer, you know." She wasn't saying it for his benefit but for her own; reaffirming what she knew, trying desperately to remind herself he was a vampire, not to be trusted, not to be allowed trust back.

"Yes I am. But in a way Luv, aren't we all?"

He felt the hand across his chest clutch his shirt, the material bunching in her hand. She was silent for a long while and then very quietly she answered. "Yes, we are."

Without another word, he lifted the book with his right hand and began to read. His voice was low and soothing, not matching the words he was reading at all, those of a desperate young man, slowly dying inside. But Willow relaxed more and more into him, until finally she fell asleep. Content, he continued to read aloud, softly now so as not to awaken her as he ran his fingers lightly through her hair and over her delicate face.

"Spike?" Her voice brought him back to the present, to her searching eyes so hungry for that precious answer she was seeking.

"Yes, Willow?"

"Do you promise to take care of me?"

So very delicate, she could break so easily, shatter into a thousand pieces. The game they played was dangerous, even deadly. One false word, one wrong meaning, and he could lose her.

"I promise, Willow."

She turned back to the window, staring at nothing. The game continued. So very delicate…

***

The knock that sounded on the door to his bedroom startled Spike who was about to take a shower before bed. He'd retired after making sure that Willow had been fed and was safely tucked into her room. He stood, a towel in his arms and walked to the door; fear made his steps faster and he deftly reached for the handle and threw the door open.

There—her face awash in tears—stood Willow, her body encased in a large fluffy white robe that seemed to swallow her in the terri-cloth. Her face was red and she sniffled, but what concerned him the most was the look of blind terror in her face. She seemed to not know whether to speak or flee, but she was here and he wasn't going to let her go.

"Willow, what's wrong, are you alright?" His words were rushed, speed being most important, he had to know she was all right.

Her eyes went wide and if it was possible, she seemed even more afraid than she had been when he'd first opened the door. She took a step back as if to retreat, run from him, only to retract her step and then take another one forward. Her face fell then, crumpling into great gasping sobs that shook her body and made her eyes dance dangerously close to insanity.

"Willow," he knelt down at her feet, hands grabbed for her upper arms, holding her still so she couldn't run from him. At her feet he continued. "Tell me what's wrong."

Suddenly, her gasping stopped, as if someone had literally unplugged all of her emotions and left her nothing more than a talking machine, her eyes dull and lifeless as she asked her question. "Will you promise to take care of me?"

Shaking his head, Spike cupped her face with both of his hands, resting his cool fingers on her flush cheeks. "I promise, Willow. I promise to take care of you, no matter what." He caressed her face for a moment, watching as some of the light came back into her eyes. "What's wrong Willow? You can tell me. I promise I won't get angry."

And then it began. Her body started to shake uncontrollable, so that only Spikes arms on her shoulders kept her from falling in a heap on the floor. Her face took on a look of terror filled agony; a look he'd not seen in all of his two hundred years. Then she reached out to him, grasping him by the shoulders and began shaking her head back and forth. Her cries were accompanied by large tears that cascaded down her face, only to be followed by more. "I'm sorry Spike. I'm so sorry. I—I—I'm sorry. Please don't be mad. Please! Please don't be mad at me. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

She continued on, repeating the same phrases over and over. Spike tried to quiet her but she wasn't listening, wasn't able to hear his words of comfort. Finally, he brought his hands back up to her face, staying her head and looking deeply into her soul. What he found there brought blood red tears to his eyes.

Willow was exposed, needy, standing in the doorway to his room she had finally come to him, broken down and now stood before him begging silently with her eyes for him to save her. She needed him, he needed her, they needed each other. He would not fail her.

"Willow, listen to me, Luv. You don't have to be sorry. Whatever it is, I'll take care of it. I'll take care of you. You don't ever have to be afraid to come to me. I'll take care of you. All you have to do Luv, is tell me what's wrong, then I'll take care of everything. I'll take care of you, I promise."

She took a step back away from him and for a second Spike thought he'd lost her, that even he couldn't save her. But she simply stood there, not running not coming back to him. So he stood and closed the gap between them. And that was all it took, Willow seemed to see him for the first time and she dropped her eyes, but not before he'd seen her expression. In that one solitary moment, she'd admitted to herself she needed him, she would trust him with whatever had happened to her. He'd finally gotten through.

When she again looked at him, he could tell it was going to be bad. Her mouth opened to say something before closing and then opening again, her voice was hardly above a whisper. "I'm sorry Spike. I don't want you to be angry. I couldn't—I couldn't help myself. I tried, I really did, but I just couldn't. I'm sorry, please don't be mad at me."

"It's going to be alright, Willow. But you have to tell me what happened. I'll make it all better, but you must tell me why you're crying."

She looked down at her hands, which lay clasped in front of her, like a reprimanded child. "I'm crying…because I disappointed you."

"How could you, Willow? You could never disappoint me. Not ever."

Again her eyes focused on him, assessing whether or not he was telling the truth. Finally she saw what she needed and held out her left arm. "I—I cut myself again." Such a tiny whisper, so small, so scared, so desperately searching to be found.

"Oh, Luv." He again knelt before her and raised his left hand to touch her face. "How bad?"

She leaned into his touch before responding, drawing comfort and strength from him. "I—I don't think it's too bad. I tried—I mean I didn't want to do it." Her voice once more got very tiny. "I really did try to stop myself."

"I believe you, Willow. May I look and see?" She nodded her head and Spike pushed the terri-cloth robe from her wrist and exposed the angry slash marks that ran horizontally across her forearm. He winced at the obvious pain they must have caused. "What did you do it with, Pet?"  
There was no anger in his voice and Willow was easily startled by its lacking. "My…dress, it got caught in one of the doorways…I broke one of those beautiful mother of pearl buttons. I was so worried you'd be mad, so worried you wouldn't take care of me anymore if you found out. I tried to tell myself that you would, that you wouldn't be mad at me. But…I…I couldn't do it." She paused, collecting herself. "I—I used the broken button…it's what started it." Desperation, blame a button for the pain one inflicts on ones self. Desperation.

"How long ago, Luv? These have already stopped bleeding."

"I didn't want to tell you. I knew once I'd done it you'd be mad—"

"No Willow, I'm not mad. I'm sad that you did this, sad you were worried that I'd be angry, but I'm not mad at you. A broken button on a dress is easy to fix and there isn't anything you could possibly do that would make me not want you or not keep my promise. I'm not mad at you." He punctuated the last sentence by rising to his feet and laying a light kiss on her forehead.

Taking her by the hand he led her across the plush carpet to the bathroom door. Once there he picked her up and settled her on the countertop. Carefully, he pushed back the sleeve of her robe once again and looked at the cuts from the taper light. "How long ago did you do this, Luv," he asked again.

"Maybe half an hour, maybe more, I—I don't know."

"Can you trust me, Willow? Just for a little while, just until I'm done taking care of you tonight?" He needed her trust, what he was about to do demanded it.

She studied him for a moment, but it was brief, as if she was just reaffirming her answer. "I'll try, Spike, I'll try."

Nodding his head, he set her injured arm by her side then moved his hands to the stays of her robe and untied them. He glanced at her face and noted that her expression had not changed, she was still willing to accept his help. Letting the ties go, he opened the robe and helped her remove her injured arm from the sleeve before moving to the other one. 

When her robe was completely off he stood her up and looked deeply into her eyes. "Here comes the trust part, Pet. If it gets too much, I'll stop, but you have to believe that I won't hurt you. You have to believe that I'll take care of you, that everything I will ever do from now on will be about taking care of you. Can you try to believe that?"

No hesitation, as if she was finally over the precipice and had landed safely in his arms, she nodded her head. "Yes, I'll try."

Spike leaned her silk clad body against the counter and moved to the shower. He turned the hot water on and allowed the steam to fog the glass enclosure. Then, adjusting the temperature to something Willow could stand, he moved back over to her. "Lift your arms Pet, let me get this off you."

Without word of protest or pause for thought, Willow lifted her arms and allowed Spike to pull the dark green nightgown from her body. Goosebumps rose on her flesh as the warm, moist air from the shower touched her skin. She said not a word as she stood exposed before him, clad only in a pair of black lace underwear.

Dropping to his knees, Spike hooked his fingers through the waistband and eased the delicate material over her hips and down her shapely legs. Then like the goddess Venus, she stood before him, her skin a glow from the heat in the room and a deep flush on her skin from his presence. "Perfect."

Her eyes met his and she gave a weak smile. "Thank you."

"What are you thanking me for Luv, I'm just telling you the truth."

She thought on that a moment before her smile grew bolder. "For you, I know."

He returned her smile before stepping away from her and removing his own shirt. Next went his pants and finally his boxers. He heard Willow's startled gasp and couldn't prevent the smile that flew across his face. Then he took her uninjured arm and led her to the shower.

Long ago, the shower had been built for two, a luxury that had had to be concealed in the society in which it was built. Now it served it purpose nicely as Spike stepped into the warming spray and pulled Willow flush against him. She shook in his arms, not from fear, but something else, something Spike wouldn't allow himself to think about. She didn't need him to try and take advantage of her now, she needed him to take care of her, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

He pulled her head against his chest and carefully and slowly stepped both of their bodies into the hot spray. Spike heard her startled gasp as the soothing water fell across her damaged skin, but the arm he had wrapped about her waist gave a tight squeeze before he spoke softly over the spray. "I'm going to take care of you, Willow. Just trust me." Her nod alone answered him.

Lifting his hands to her hair, he worked the water past the first layer, running one hand through it's length while the other made a tent on her forehead to protect her eyes. He felt her move closer into him, wrapping her arms around his waist instead of resting them on his hips. Unconsciously she rubbed small circles across his back and Spike had to concentrate on the task at hand.

Once her hair was sufficiently wet, he reached for the bottle of shampoo that rested in a built in alcove. It wasn't the right scent, more masculine than feminine, but that didn't matter now. After a generous amount resided in his hand, he worked a lather into her hair, massaging her scalp and upper neck, hoping to ease some of the tension he could still feel lingering in her muscles. The more he touched her, the more she seemed to relax against him, his touch soothing the inner conflict and ending the last of her will to fight. Her hands stopped moving against his back and instead rested on the curve of his bottom. Spike rinsed one hand covered in shampoo and then tipped her head back into the spray, again covering her eyes from the tear causing foam. Gently he worked the lather out of her hair, mindful to reach the suds that were hiding at her neckline and behind her ears.

When the suds were finally rinsed away, he repeated the steps with the conditioner, which was again too masculine, but would have to do. He could hear her making soft sounds as he eventually worked the slick substance from her hair. The sound, music to a dying man's ears. For here in his arms, she found pleasure, here by his side, she still stood, exposed to the world, bared to his imposing body, and still she found enough trust in him to sigh softly in pleasure. Music to a dying man…

He pulled her head against his chest again before lowering his mouth to her ear. "Willow, I'm going to turn you around now, alright?" She waited a breath and then nodded her head, accepting his question. Spike took her gently by the shoulders and turned her body around, careful to make sure that her left arm did not enter beneath the spray.

Taking a washcloth, he ran a bar of soap over it, turning the blue towel almost white. Then taking the towel into his right hand he placed it below her breasts and waited. He knew this new position would frighten her a little. Before she could hide herself against him, but now she was truly exposed to his eyes. Her breath was held, muscles tight, but her posture turned questioningly as the towel stayed where it was.

Opening her eyes, she turned her head and looked at him. She flushed even more as she made eye contact but did not drop her gaze.

"May I wash you, Willow?"

Her pupils dilated fractionally, but Spikes predatory vision allowed him to see the barely hidden stirring in her eyes.

At the nod of her head he moved his hand to tuck her face once again into his shoulder before he moved the washcloth. Large sweeping circles trekked slowly over her skin. As the towel passed over her stomach he felt the last of the scabs from her first attempt with a razor fall away, leaving new skin, fresh skin behind. This would pass. Her old form would eventually be shed, dropped aside for a new one. He had faith, something he hadn't had in a very long time; she brought it out in him.

He felt her shutter as he swept the cloth over her breasts, careful to maintain some semblance of professionalism. He couldn't help the word that formed once again on his lips. "Perfect."

Spike felt her smile against his skin, her lips parting, trapping a measure of his flesh between them by accident. "Thank you." He felt her words more than he heard them. Even if he died tomorrow, even if he never saw the moon again, never fed from the body of a virgin, he would be happy for eternity, simply on those two words.

Placing a steadying hand on her lower back, he bent at the knees and drew the washcloth down her long, thin legs, taking care to wash her feet and toes. She giggled slightly as worked under her foot and he made a mental note about that particular spot. He rose, bringing the cloth over the curve of her rump and up her back, once again making wide, open circles. Soft white foam covered the blades of her shoulders, marking the path he'd already taken. When he was finally satisfied—but not really—he again returned to her ear. "Willow, be a good girl for me, and step into the spray." 

She sighed in regret and then stepped away from him, allowing the warm water to sloth away the dirt, grime, and guilt from her body. She turned in the water, unwittingly allowing Spike a full view of the woman he'd become obsessed with saving.

His hands caught her shoulders in mid-turn, and he once again pulled her back flush against his front. "Let me have your arm Luvey, the one that doesn't hurt." She raised her arm to her side and Spike caught it. Holding it by the elbow he again lathered it and then returned it to the spray. "Ok, Luv, now the hard part, let me have the other arm. I promise I'll be as gentle as I can." Slowly she raised her left arm and when Spike caught it, she automatically winced. "Sorry, Pet, it'll only hurt for a second." Bringing the washcloth behind her body he brushed it lightly over the uncut portion. Then gingerly, he brushed it over the open flesh, lightly bringing the rough edge of the towel against her skin. He heard her hiss in pain and softly whispered in her ear. Words of reassurance, and once again promising her he'd take care of her. "Almost done, Luv. Just a little more, we don't want it to get infected, now do we?" He felt her shake her head in response. When he'd done all he could, Spike brought her arm to the warm water and washed the stinging suds away.

Finished, he pulled both of her arms to her sides and then wrapped her close to his body. "You did so well, Willow. I'm very proud of you. It's ok now, the worst is over, it's all over." He continued to croon into her ear, starting a rocking motion that eased her.

When she'd calmed down to his satisfaction, he moved and rested her body lightly against the wall, being sure to direct the spray to keep her body warm. "Hold tight, Pet. Then we'll get you all dried off." He watched her eyes follow his movements as he stepped under the spray. As he soaped his hair, he thought about how he'd spoken to her since entering the bathroom. Like a child, he'd reassured her with simple words, ones that held no double meaning, only the sureness of there definition. She was too smart for that, to be spoken to as a child, but she seemed to respond better to him, as if by those simple words she could be certain he meant exactly what he said. After rinsing his hair, he decided if she responded well to his childish speak then he'd continue. Perhaps what she needed right now was to be treated exactly like a child; told what to do, and how to do it. There was no room for error when instructed. She could be certain not to anger him if she did what he said. He remembered her words from earlier, 'I just need to be taken care of for a little while. Just until I can fix this, just until it's better. Just a little while.' Spike knew eventually she'd be able to stand tall, but right now, she still held her body curled tightly in a ball; if she needed to be pampered a little to help her stand, then pampered she would be.

He was about to drop the cloth he'd been using to wash his body, when he felt fumbling fingers take it from him. He glanced behind to see Willow's shy smile as she took the cloth and used it to carefully wash his back. At first her hands worked slowly, almost frightened by what she was doing, and then when he didn't say anything in protest her strokes became bolder, more sure of themselves. With just enough pressure to have an effect, she ran the soap-covered cloth from the top of his shoulders to the middle of his back. She worked the muscles, applying pressure that caused his back to ripple and she giggled softly to herself. Finally, when she was satisfied, she reached around his body and placed the cloth once again in his hand. "I'm finished," was all she said.

Spike turned, allowing her a view of his body, still soapy. He again saw her pupils dilate but chose to step into the water, rather than be engulfed by the need he saw there.

Clean, he reached over and turned the water off. He pulled Willow into his body—resting one arm around her back—knowing the lack of warmth would soon cause her chills. She moved into him, resting her head on his chest with a familiarity of always being there, as if this was so normal, so right.

Opening the glass door he grabbed a dark blue towel off the warming rack before closing the door again. He wrapped the soft material around her back and then, eased her body from his, and brought it to his front. Rubbing the towel over her back, he brought the now slightly damp material to her dripping hair and carefully massaged the moisture away. Kneeling, he took first one leg and then the other, buffing the droplets of water away. Standing, he dried her good arm and then gingerly took the injured one in both hands. He wrapped the towel around her forearm and with light pressure, removed all traces of dampness. He saw her wince and apologized before returning the towel to her shoulders and easing her back against the wall.

Again he reached outside the door and took another towel which he efficiently used to dry himself off before wrapping it about his waist. He drew Willow to him and slipped an arm about her shoulder before opening the glass door and helping her into the room.

The sudden change in temperature caused her to shiver as he quickly removed the towel from her body and deposited her again on the countertop. "Can you wait here for me, Luv? I'll be right back. I'm just going into the other room for a second to get you a shirt to wear, sound good?"

He saw her hesitate, as if weighing the options of his leaving. He could clearly see her inner struggle, battling with herself as to whether or not he would return. Relief washed over him as she finally looked him in the eye and nodded her head.

As quickly as he could he moved to the other room. Reaching into the closet he chose a silk lined velvet shirt of a rich dark black. He knew the color was too dark for her but the silk and velvet would keep her warm while the long sleeves would protect her arm.

Bringing the shirt back into the bathroom he saw the relief enter her demeanor as he strode towards her. "I promised I'd come back, didn't I, Pet?" She looked at him then with such adoration, like a child lovingly surprised by a new kitten that hadn't been expected. The nod of her head was all she seemed to be able to give. "See Willow, I keep my promises, don't I?" Again she nodded and Spike opened the shirt and helped her ease both her arms into it. Then, careful not to hurt her, he unbuttoned the cuff of the left arm and curled the material back to expose her forearm.

Moving to one of the cabinets, he withdrew a few medical supplies and then proceeded to wrap her arm in soft airy gauze. When he was happy with his work, he drew the dark sleeve over the top and re-secured the button.

Lifting her by the waist, he put her gently on the floor and button by button, recovered her body. The last button in place, he took her hand and led her into the other room. It was warmer in this room thanks to the roaring fire and the light danced beautifully across her skin as he led her to the bed.

He placed a guiding hand on her back as he had her take the two steps that led up to the mattress before lifting her slightly and sitting her squarely on the edge. He brought his fingers to her cheek and lightly brush them across the rosy color the heat had created. Spike's eyes lit up as she moved her face to nuzzle his hand. Slowly, she raised hers and rested it lightly on his hip, effectively holding him at his place in front of her. She opened her eyes and gave him a real smile, one that spread across her face and shone brighter than the sun.

"You should probably get some pants on, don't you think?" She teased, allowing her fingers to innocently run along the rim of the towel about his waist.

He nodded his head. "You'll be alright if I step into the closet for a sec.?"

Again she smiled. "Yeah, I'll be ok. But…hurry."

He returned her smile and then took the two steps down from the bed before returning to the closet for a comfortable pair of black satin pants. Spike returned to her side and was happy to see there was no look of relief in her eyes—she'd know he'd come back to her.

Settling in next to her, he maneuvered her body so she was more securely on the bed and then scooted closer to her. Reaching across the bed he took the hairbrush he'd brought with him from the bathroom and slowly began to run it through her damp hair. 

She was like an entirely different person the minute he'd completed the first stroke. She leaned into his touch, begging with her body language for him to continue. Again and again he pulled the bristles though her hair, and soon she was sighing softly and arching her back with contentment. Her body craved the contact as if she'd been deprived for so long of it that it now completely overwhelmed her sense. Again he thought about her mother, didn't mothers do this for their daughters, didn't they brush their hair, and share womanly secretes together? He knew Dru had, knew because she'd often brought one brush or another to him and begged in her sweet voice for him to run it through her hair. He hadn't minded, it had always brought him a measure of peace doing such a simple task to make her happy. But never had Dru responded like his Willow. Never had she leaned into his touch and sighed softly, encouragingly for him to continue. Never had he wanted so badly to please anyone in his long life.

When her hair began to dry from the constant brushing, Spike lifted the brush away and heard Willow sigh in both happiness and sadness. "If I keep brushing Pet, it'll get all frizzy. Wouldn't want that, now would we?"

He saw her shake her head no, and then she turned around to look at him, an odd look in her eye.

"What is it, Luv?"

"Thank you for doing that, it was…nice. My…I didn't…that is…thank you." She smiled again, and Spike returned it.

"For you Willow, anytime."

She gave a soft laugh. "I may hold you to that."

"Good, I expect you too."

He touched her face, hoping the added contact would be welcomed. Willow leaned in yet again, craving and demanding his presence. He was surprise then, when she pulled away, a strange look coming over her face. It was almost a troubled look but not exactly.

"It's started hasn't it. This is the end."

Spike understood. How could he not? This was exactly what he'd wanted to happen. "It isn't the end, Willow. To quote a cheesy phrase, 'It's only the beginning.'"

A weak smile, and then, "Are you sure you're not mad at me?"

"Yes, Willow. I'm not angry. You've been very confused these last few days and it's understandable that you'd lash out against someone. I only wish it had been me and not yourself. But don't worry. Now that I'm the one taking care of you you don't have to worry anymore. I'll keep you safe, from yourself, from everything.

"Anytime you feel so much pain that you want to hurt yourself you tell me,and I'll find a way to make the pain stop so you don't have too, ok?"

She thought on it a moment, deciding if it was feasible. "I'll try."

"That's all I'm asking, Luv. You do your very best to need me, and I'll do mine to take care of you. You don't have anything to be afraid of anymore, I won't let anything hurt you ever again."

"But," fear entered her eyes, casting shadows of doubt. "You can't protect me from everything."

"What things can't I keep from hurting you, Willow."

She was silent for a long time before finally answering in a voice almost too soft to hear. "The past."

Spike heard and understood. Hooking an arm under her legs and pulled her to the head of the bed before laying her in the mountain of pillows. Shifting his own body, he lay down and pulled her against him, fitting her into the crook of his shoulder. Slowly he ran his fingers through her damp hair and curled the fingers of one hand around the curve of her hip.

"The past is a hard thing to control. It's always with us, pushing into our daily lives. But the past cannot control us unless we let it. I want you to be safe Willow. I want to protect you more than I've ever wanted to do anything in my entire life. But you're right, I can't protect you from your past, at least not unless I know what it is. I know you can't talk about it right now, it's still too fresh a wound," he ran a light finger over her injured arm. "Just like this. But eventually Luv, the wounds will heal and when they do, when they don't hurt so much, you can tell me what hurt you so I can make sure it never happens again. Until then, I'll just have to make sure that nothing else gets to you, that nothing else harms you while you wait for your past to stop hurting." 

Using his index finger, he lifted her head so she could look at him. "I know you understand that I'll take care of you now; that I won't leave you. But I also know that you still can't completely trust me and that's all right. I'm not asking for any more miracles tonight. So I'll wait patiently for you Willow, and when you know that the time is right, you can come to me, just like you have about everything else. You're such a strong woman, Luv. Strong and brave, take all the time you need, I'm not going anywhere."

She said nothing, made no motion that let him know she understood his words but her lack of further protest told him what he needed to know.

"Are you warm enough, Pet?"

She nodded her head. "Am I going to sleep here tonight?"

"Would you like that?"

Silence, then, "Yes."

"Then of course you'll sleep here tonight and any other night you choose. Everything that I have is yours, Willow. Take all that you need from me."

She shifted, snuggling closer to him, getting comfortable. She rested her injured arm on his chest and flexed her fingers to lay lightly on his collarbone.

"I--," she paused. "I like it here with you. I don't know how to describe it. I just—know that—it's all right to be with you. I want so much—want you to be the one, Spike. You—you could be the one…" She trailed off, her voice catching in the air, leaving room for things to come. Room for things to grow.

"Hush now, Luv. Rest. I'll be here when you wake up."

"I know." And with that, she fell asleep.


	8. The Dawning of a New Day

****

Chapter 8 The Dawning of a New Day

Heavy arms shifted restlessly in his grip. Willow was stirring, and he knew from past experiences she'd awaken soon. What he didn't know was what she would do when she awoke.

The night before had been very difficult for her and him as well. Everything he'd hoped for came true as she came to him, finally asking him for help. The problem was she'd hurt herself to do it, again cutting her body to alleviate the fear she'd felt that he'd be angry at her for breaking a button off her dress. It saddened him to think that she was so afraid of him; but she was learning—had come to the realization last night in fact—that he was going to take care of her, that she didn't need to be afraid anymore. He knew she understood now, that she believed that he wouldn't hurt her, that he'd protect her, but there was so much more she wasn't willing to understand yet.

She needed to learn to trust him, to believe in him beyond his words and actions. Willow needed to trust his intent, even when she didn't know what was going to happen next. Last night she'd finally allowed herself to believe that he would keep his word, maybe even follow though on his actions, but she still couldn't allow herself to trust him beyond both of those things.

But he wasn't about to complain. She'd moved faster than he'd anticipated, gained surer footing with every step instead of stumbling. Willow was moving quickly towards him; not that it mattered anyway, he'd stay as long as it took, he had all the time in the world.

He felt her hand flex against the muscles of his chest and her fingers trailed fire against his skin as she moved her injured arm closer to her body. He wanted her desperately. Last night had been a true test of his willpower and stamina. Everything about him had wanted to claim her, mark her as his and make sure no one ever touched her again; but everything that was Willow begged him not to. Of course she'd been tempted, the flesh is always the greatest temptation; but while her body craved it, her mind needed to trust him and taking advantage of her body would not have gained her trust.

Eyelashes fluttered against his skin and a soft moan of abandoned dreaming left her beautiful mouth. Everything about this fire sprite spoke of perfection. Human eyes could not see the bone structure beneath her still young skin; she'd grow up to be one of the most beautiful women the planet had ever created, one year, maybe two, and the entire world would see what they'd missed. Spike intended to have claimed her by then, just in case.

"Spike?"

"I'm here, Luv. How do you feel, sleep well?"

Her voice was drowsy and her movements languid as she tried to stretch and still maintain as much contact with him as she could. When she'd settled again, she nodded against his chest, the fingers of her injured arm tracing light patterns on his collarbone.

When she said nothing more he became a little worried. She was being too quiet; he'd expected her to completely forget where she was and maybe even put up a half-hearted struggle when she realized where she'd spent the night. But instead she just lay tucked against him, running her fingers lightly over his chest.

Then he realized her words from the night before, during the time he'd made her dinner and they'd sat at the table together, her eating, him watching to make sure she finished it all. Her words had come out of nowhere; one minute she'd been eating, the next she'd looked up at him and just uttered them. Now he wished he'd paid more attention; now that he realized she'd been calling for his help even then. "I just need to be taken care of for a little while. Just until I can fix this, just until it's better. Just a little while."

He realized then that she was waiting for instructions. She needed him to tell her what to do and how to do it. Like a mother to a daughter or even an overpowering lover, she needed to feel safe and secure and to do that she needed him to dictate her life to her; just until she could do it for herself. Spike hated to think that her pain was so great she couldn't even allow her mind to think for itself; but he understood that everyone needed a break, and Willow had been taking care of herself and everyone else for the last seventeen years. It was time for someone to take care of her for a change.

"Are you comfortable, Willow?" His voice held honest desire to protect and ensure her comfort. He was sincere, he'd have to be when talking with her; they say dying men know all liars.

Her voice was muffled against his chest, her warm breath flowing over his skin. "Yes, thank you."

"Good. Are you tired? Do you want to sleep some more?"

Suddenly she sat up then, just a little to look into his eyes. Her stare was questioning, as if she were analyzing if he were ready to play the game, if he knew all the rules. He gave her a weak smile and asked again.

Shaking her head no she allowed her head to fall back against his chest. A whisper carried her words to him. "When I was little, my parents took me to a psychiatrist, actually they took me to a lot of them. I was—was having trouble sleeping. I couldn't get to sleep and then when I did, I'd wake up screaming, terrible nightmares." Reflexively Spike tightened his hold about her body, drawing her closer to him. She snuggled against his chest before continuing. "After the first visit, they all told my parents that it was because I was afraid at night, that I was afraid to be alone in the house."

"Alone? I thought you said you were little."

She paused. "I was. I was only about eight when I went to see the psychiatrists, but I'd been having problems sleeping for years before that." Her voice grew quiet. "My parents have always left me alone in the house while they travel. I've been on my own since I was about six; they didn't see a need for a nanny since I was so smart. Sometimes I wish I wasn't, that I was stupid, then they would have had to stay with me or at least gotten someone else to."

He stroked his fingers through her hair, not trusting his voice to refrain from condemn her parents as he'd promised not to. But after a minute of silence she continued where she'd left off.

"The psychiatrists told my parents that I needed to be enrolled in therapy right away since I was barely sleeping four hours a night and was only eight. But my mother said it was nothing, just a phase—she's a child psychiatrist you know one of the best in the world. My daddy's a Rabbi, he does sermons all over the world and sometimes even in Sunnydale, but it's been a long time since he's been in Sunnydale." Quietly, she lay against him then, not saying a word, not volunteering any more information. Her revelations had wiped her out; she wasn't used to telling people anything about herself.

"So what happened, Pet?"

Shifting, she again looked up at him, resting on her elbow before liking what she saw in his face and returning to his chest. "They took me home and put me to bed. My mom used all kinds of sleep aids on me; some nights she'd give me two or three Valium just to get me to sleep the night."

"Valium? That's not for kids. I should know, they've had that stuff a long time. Your mum gave you that and you were only eight?"

"She'd been giving it to me since I was six, my daddy didn't know. But when they were home, she didn't want to hear me scream so she gave me the drugs. When they left she took them away. I eventually learned to get by on three to four hours of sleep."

He wanted to rage, wanted to find her parents and kill them painfully for their ignorance. Her father sounded like an idiot that didn't know what his woman as doing and her mother—he was going to enjoy that kill very, very much.

Spike's inner dialogue nearly caused him to miss her next words. "But, that's what I mean."

"What do you mean?"

"I usually only sleep four hours a night and I still wake up with terrible nightmares most nights, at least twice a night. But since I got here, since you took me away, I've slept so long. I've gotten to sleep seven, even eight hours and then I haven't had a single nightmare since I've been here.

"I've never had so much rest. I've never felt—" She paused, taking a deep breath and analyzing her next words carefully. "I've never felt safe enough to sleep the whole night. But with you—with you it's different. I—I feel safe enough to sleep. Last night, sleeping here, I've never felt so safe and secure in my whole life, not ever…"

He wanted to hold her tight, to wrap her up in his arms and let her know that while bad things existed in the world none of them would ever touch her again. He settled on pulling her body flush against his own and enveloping her in an embrace that allowed only for her chest to rise and fall.

Willow snuggled into him, gripping at his arm to hold herself to him. So much pain and sorrow in one so young, so many feelings of abandonment and fear. How she'd managed to survive so long, Spike didn't know, but he did know that she wouldn't have to just survive from now on, now she would get to live.

"I know that was hard for you to tell me Willow. You were very, very brave to tell me all of that. And you did it all without my asking you to. I'm so proud of you. You can tell me anything Willow, anything at all and I'll never get mad at you. I'll never leave you. I'll always protect you Willow, always."

She nodded her head and then he felt her close her eyes, allowing her body to rest against his.

A long while passed and Spike kept his grip about her. Willow kept her eyes closed, but he knew she wasn't sleeping, just trusting in him to hold her tightly. He didn't disappoint. When Spike was sure she knew that he would not leave her he spoke.

"If you'd like Willow, you could always sleep here with me. You don't have to got back to your room unless you want to."

There was no sound, no movement from her for a moment. Then, "I'd like to sleep with you. I feel…happier with you."

"Then here you will sleep, Pet. In fact, got any ideas for redecorating, just let me know."

She sat up then and smiled at him, a warming smile that showed she'd gotten his joke and found it mildly entertaining, but that she was really smiling at him. It was a very good smile indeed.

"You hungry, Luv?"

She nodded her head. "Maybe a little."

"Then let's get something in that stomach of yours, shall we?"

He made to rise, to sit up and bring her with him, only to have her wrap her arms around his waist and push him back down.

"Willow?" His voice held a note of concern. He shouldn't have worried.

"I don't want to get up, I like it here." Her voice was a mock pout, like a little girl not quite ready to face the day. He laughed and pulled her closer to him.

"But Pet, the whole world is out there waiting for you and me."

She shook her head. "Uuhu, no it isn't, just the house and it isn't going anywhere. I just want to stay here, it's warm here." She smiled, letting him know that if he wanted her to she'd get up and go anywhere with him that she was only playing. Just like a child…

"Is that so, Luv. Well, then I suppose you don't want to see your surprise then do you?"

Sitting up, Willow gazed into his face adoringly, excitement flowing across her face. "Surprise? What is it Spike?"  
"Oh it isn't much really, not that big a deal at all. I just thought you'd like to go outside for a while, maybe see the gardens or even the horses. But if you'd rather say in bed with me, well, who am I to complain?" She positively shook then with happiness and excitement.

"Really! I can really go outside?! And you have horses? I didn't know you had horses?! I love horses! And the gardens, I can't wait to see the gardens! Can we see the ocean to, all I've seen is from my window and I'd love to see the ocean, can we please, please see it?!" Her excitement was contagious and he found himself smiling right along with her.

"'Course we can. But first you have to eat a big, huge breakfast. Make me proud with how much you can pack away. Then while you get dressed, I'll make some things for a picnic and we'll make a night out of it. The moon's full and you should be able to see almost everything. Sound good to you?"

Willow nodded her head emphatically.

"Alright. Then lets get a shower and head down stairs."

A bright blush flooded over Willow's face then and she let lose a soft giggle as she remembered last nigh. "Um, Spike…"

He laughed out right, pulling her into a quick hug before releasing her and standing up.

"Don't worry Pet, I'll let you have the shower first." A wicked gleam passed into his eyes and he knew Willow saw it. "Besides, I don't know if I could control myself around you—sleep tousled hair and that fresh out of bed look." It wasn't a lie and they both knew it. Willow ducked her head in a sweet blush and let Spike help her from the bed.

He leaned down and whispered into her ear. "Don't worry Willow, there'll be plenty of time for all that later." He kissed her cheek and gave her bum a light tap in the direction of the bathroom. He saw the smile on her face as she turned at the door to look at him, a knowing look in her eye. She closed the door half way and then stepped deeper inside.

Spike sat on the bed and gave a great sigh. Willow didn't seem as bad as he'd thought she'd be, but that didn't mean she wasn't covering it up. Deciding not to take any chances, he moved to the fire and stocked it, wanting the room to be warm when she returned.

***

As he walked back into the bedroom, water still clinging stubbornly to his blond hair, he started at seeing Willow still wrapped in her towel sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace. She had her legs drawn up against her chest and under the towel and her head was resting against one of the arms, just laying, watching the flames dance.

"Willow? Are you alright, sweetheart?"

She looked up at him before quickly looking away. She seemed almost embarrassed. "I'm alright. I was waiting for you."

"I thought you were going to get dressed and I was to pick you up in your rooms?" He was worried, could she suddenly have lost all the nerve she'd gotten last night? Was she afraid he'd leave her again? He hoped no.

"I—I was. I went to my room and then—" She shrugged her shoulders, the towel slipping a little, revealing that she indeed wore a bra and perhaps even a pair of knickers. She'd gone to her room, but had barely dressed, he didn't understand why.

"How come you didn't put on one of the dresses I bought you? Or even a pair of ridding pants? I thought you were excited to get to go ridding?"

Her head shot up from it's resting place, a look of fear crossing her face. "I am excited. I—I want to go ridding really, I do. I—I just…"

"What is it, Luv? You can tell me anything. I promise I won't get angry." He meant it and the look in her eyes then told him that she knew it, which only confused him more. That is until she answered all his questions in one small answer.

"I didn't know what you'd like me to wear." She gave him a small but bright smile.

It all fell into place. Everything she was right now needed to be explained, needed direction. She needed him to answer all questions, to tell her what to do, because he'd agreed to take care of her, agreed to tell her what to do. Willow wanted to please him, wanted him to be happy with her, just like any scared child wanted to please. There was reassurance in knowing that the person with all the power cared for and liked you. He remembered, he'd been the same way with Angelus…

"Oh Willow. Anything you wear would make you look absolutely beautiful. Though I have to say, you wearing nothing at all is just as tempting." His leering look caused a laugh of both pleasure and relief, she had been worried that he'd been angry, worried she'd upset him.

"Come with me, Luvey." He reached his hand down and took hers, pulling her body up and away from the towel and chair. When she stood he saw that she was in fact wearing all the required under-things of the day. He had to admit, it was a much better show than it had been a hundred years ago, more skin and yet more for the imagination to wonder at.

He escorted her to the closet, and once inside, dropped her hand at the door before moving deeper inside. Rounding a corner, he exchanged the towel for a pair of well-worn leather pants and a white poet shirt. Leaving the top few buttons undone, he moved back over to her and took her hand.

They left the closet and as they walked down the hallway, Willow spoke. "I like that shirt, it's nice. I remember it from earlier, that first night I woke up. It's—comforting."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close as he opened her door and led her to the closet. "Whatever makes my Red Queen happy." She smiled at the reference and snuggled into his embrace.

Opening the closet, he knew in the dim light from the fire he'd lit while she was in the shower, she would not be able to see in the enclosed space. He dropped her hand again and moved inside. Rustling around, he found two outfits he thought she'd like before exiting the closet and crossing to the bed where she'd settled.

Holding up the cream colored ridding outfit, he presented it for her inspection. Then holding up the other hand he showed her the jeans and emerald velvet shirt he'd also brought. "Which do you like better, Luv?"

For a moment, panic entered her eyes and he was afraid she'd break down into tears. He realized his mistake, too many choices, any choice at all was one too many. She wanted to please him, but didn't know him well enough yet to know what he liked. His poor Willow found herself stuck, searching for answers and not having any. He could literally she her worry that she'd choose wrong and make him angry, angry enough to leave her. She believed in his words and actions, but not his future intent.

"It's all right, Willow. I like both of these outfits, that's why I picked them. I like them both equally. I thought you'd like to decide which one I got to see you in tonight. You know, add a little spice to my long life." His voice held the joke until he saw her accept it. Relief, for a moment it was all he could feel, she'd accepted his answer, she would choose.

Examining the two outfits, Willow finally reached for the jeans and shirt. Her fingers wrapped about the hangers and brushed his before taking the clothing from his hand and pulling it against herself. He gave her a large smile, one that let her know that she'd actually picked the one he'd really liked best. She beamed at him then.

Moving to the closet, he replaced the other outfit and then moved back to help her into her clothes.

Sitting her on the bed, he slipped the jeans over both of her legs and then pulled her into a standing position to ease them over her hips. He secured the fastenings and then without warning, kissed the tip of her nose. A surprised and then brightly-lit smile fell into place, a quick giggle escaping her tempting mouth. "Your nose looked a little under-appreciated. Thought I'd change its outlook and imagine that, it worked." She ducked her head as an embarrassed flush added color to her skin, he couldn't help but laugh.

Taking the velvet shirt into his hands he weighed the material. "Think you'll be warm enough in this, Luv? It's really warm out there tonight, but I want to make sure." She nodded her head and with careful ease, he slipped the material around her re-bandaged arm. Straightening the collar, he leaned down and kissed her nose again. "I just wanted to see you blush again." And she did.

He fastened the buttons and then helped her tuck the shirt into her jeans. When she stood dressed in both clothes and shoes, he took her hand and led her down the stairs to the kitchen.

Through the windows, moonlight fluttered against the walls and lit the way to the taper that hung against the walls. He lit them, holding Willow's hand and bringing her along with him to every one. The lighting revealed more and more of Willow's beauty to him and he knew that if he'd still needed to breathe he would have stopped from just looking at her. The idea that he knew first hand what she looked like beneath her warm clothing nearly undid him.

Choosing to remove temptation before she saw the look he used to gaze at her, Spike settled her into a chair and moved to the refrigerator. He pulled out some eggs and bacon before moving to the stove and turning it on. "How do you like your eggs, Luv?"

She paused, and he held his breath for her answer. "Scrambled and with ketchup, if that's alright?"

He nearly laughed with relief. He nodded his head; his look telling her he was proud. Then, making sure she knew he was joking, allowed his comment. "What is it with you Yanks. You drown everything with ketchup! You know there was a time when ketchup didn't even exist! It's true, I remember it! We use to eat the blasted things with salt and nothing else, we did. Now, it's ketchup this and ketchup that. Maybe I should ask you what you'd like with your ketchup."

Her laughter made his day as he continued to cook her breakfast, setting the bacon in once the eggs had begun to set up. Spike never wanted this moment to end, but of course it had too.

"Spike?" Her voice held concern and he could tell from the inflection, a hint of fear.

"What is it, Luv? It's all right." He had to reassure her, make her somehow understand.

"I—that is—um…I can't—I mean, I don't—I can't eat bacon." The last came out in a rush and he found himself stumbling for an explanation. She provided it at his confusing. "It's not that I don't want to! Um…well, I'm—well I was Jewish and…we don't exactly…pork is a no-no." She turned pleading eyes on him and he could see her begging him to understand.

Leaving the eggs to their own devices, he moved to her chair and kneelt before her. "I completely forgot, Luv. You'd told me your dad was a Rabbi and I didn't even think about it. Sorry 'bout that; but no worries, we'll just make a new batch, how's that sound?" She nodded and gave a smile before he returned to the stove and made a show of throwing out the offensive food. "Back! Back! You dirty, disgusting swine! Away from my Red Queen, she cares not for you horrid presence!" Willow's laughter was music to his ears.

Once they'd settled on three eggs, toast, a glass of both juice and milk and then half a muffin, Spike sat down beside her to watch her eat. Willow made it through half the food before sitting back to let it settle. They'd exchanged small talk but mostly had remained quite, Spike wanted her to eat not talk.

"Spike, I have a question."

"Go ahead Luv, any question from you has to be an honor for a poor dumb fool like me to have an answer for."

She grinned only to have it disappear suddenly. Willow seemed to struggle with her question, as if she wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. "I'm—well, I was wondering what you were going to have for breakfast?"

He started at her question, but she pressed on, not taking notice. "I looked in the kitchen when we put all the food away last week, but I didn't see any blood at all and I know you're not feeding off me. So I—I'm just curious…that's all. You don't have to tell me if you don't want too." Her last line was a rush to save herself, but Spike would never lie to her, never.

"I bet you tore this place apart looking for a food source, didn't you?"

She nodded. "When you were still sleeping I went looking. I even when into the basement—I don't like it down there."

"Oh Willow. Luvey, you should have just asked me—well hold on a sec. maybe it's a good thing you waited. I wasn't much looking forward to explaining this to you, but I think you're able to handle it now." She looked at him expectantly, wait for him to continue.

"Mat. Well, Mat and Clara, then there's Joshua and Philip, Devon, and Bridget." He counted silently in his head, "Yep, that's the lot of them."

Her eyes grew wide at the mention of Mat's name and then wider still as she recognized Bridget as being the woman that came every other day to clean the house. "You—you're feeding from the help?"

"Of course, Luv. It's how vampires in society have always done it."

"But—but don't they fight, won't they tell and get you killed? They don't stay here they go home. Won't they come back with a mob and stake you?"

He laughed, she was so innocent. Living in Sunnydale had done her many favors, learning the horrors the world could offer, but it did little to explain the far older European traditions. "Willow, not everyone wants to kill vampires, some blokes actually want to keep us around you know."

"What do you mean?"

"Answer me this, Willow. Besides Angel, myself, and a few others, how would you describe vampires?"

Quietly she thought about it. "I guess I'd say they were hungry, blood sucking monsters, that killed a lot of people and liked it."

"Pretty good description, now how would you describe me or Angel?"

She took longer to think about it. "I guess I'd say you were the same, but with more control—like you didn't have to kill someone every night and while I think you enjoy it, your not so reckless about it."

"Close, really close. Those bloody Watcher Diaries have been filling your head with one-sided nonsense. What do they tell you, that vampires are hated and feared, that the world doesn't know about them but needs to be protected from them. Sound about right?" She nodded her head. "Well that isn't the case, Luv. Vampires have been around since the dawn of time, no one knows how long, but they were there standing right beside Moses when he parted the Red Sea and threw stones at Christ when he walked the path to his death. Those blasted volumes say that all vampires are savage killers but we're not. We need food just like everyone else and we kill for it, just like everyone else. Do we enjoy the hunt? Damn straight we do! The kill is something we celebrate and a long time ago, back when mortals wore skins of dead animals and worshiped more than one god, they reveled in the kill as well.

"But there are some people that know this, some that want the power we posses. Not everyone is ignorant of vampires, there are some that seek us out, track us down and ask for what we have to offer. Eternal life is very tempting Willow, no matter what you have to give up to get it."

"Is that what you've done? Offered to turn your servants into vampires if they let you feed from them?"

"In a way, more like they came to me. For example Bridget, her husbands dying, has been for some years, cancer or something like that. She found me a long time ago, before I came to Sunnydale, and asked me to turn him, in return she'd work for me when I had need of her and offer her blood to quench my thirst. She needed something from me and I might have one day needed something from her, so I made the deal. Now she cleans the house we live in and before she leaves, I take a little from her," At Willow's horrified shock he shook his head. "No Willow, not like back in Sunnydale. Killing on the Hellmouth is different than killing anywhere else. On the Hellmouth there's a rush of power you feel as a soul leaves a body that doesn't happen in the rest of the world. That's why fledglings go on killing sprees, the rush is really something to die for." He smiled at his choice of words.

"So you don't take enough to kill her and she still comes back?"

"Yeah. Her husband's going to die soon, they couldn't afford medical insurance so he's not been getting really great treatment. When the time comes, I'll turn him and leave him. I have no desire for another minion right now, they're only a pain in the ass anyway."

"But won't he hurt Bridget?"

"Probably. Not my problem."

Her eyes grew wide then and he started to protest. "No Willow, listen to me. This is the way it goes, this is the way it's been for more centuries then are even known. There are very few solid deals when dealing with the devil and a vampire is closer than most think."

"But couldn't you just tell her, warn her what will happen?" He shook his head. "But why?"

"Because God told his people not to make deals with the devil, that he could not be trusted. Like it or not, I'm the devils servant, even when I'm the master. We—vampires and the like—weed out the weak ones. Some will go to heaven, other to hell, that's not my decision. But she knew the risk before she came to me. And besides, just because her husband gets turned, doesn't mean he'll go after her, not all vampires kill their loved ones."

"Did you?"

"Hell yes! But trust me Pet, they deserved it."

She said nothing more and for a moment he was fearful he'd scared her too much, afraid she had learned too much too quickly.

"Spike, I'm going to tell Bridget what you said. Even if she can't talk to me, I'm going to tell her." She was tempting his wrath, at least that's how she saw it; he saw her as being a weak soul, not yet ready to embrace the darkness he lived in completely. She'd eventually learn.

"As you like, Willow. But I doubt it will make much of a difference. She made her decision a long time ago now and her husband is too close to dying, her soul is too lost to believe you. You'll only be wasting your breath."

"I know, I do. She chose this path and she'll have to live with the consequences. But it just seems fairer to me to tell her, to give her all the information. She can't bitch at the gates that way." On the other hand, maybe she would learn faster than he thought.

Nodding his head, he indicated her food. "Finish that up Luv, and let's get out of here. You're going to love the horses."

A flash of excitement entered her eyes and it was as if she put their discussion completely behind her. She raced to finish her food, leaving only a portion of her eggs and half a glass of milk. Satisfied that she'd eaten enough he took her dishes from her and deposited them in the sink.

"Run up to the library and get our book. I'll put a lunch together and we'll head out." Smiling brightly, Willow ran out of the room and he could hear her pound up the stairs to the library. Smiling to himself, he threw some sandwiches together and grabbed a few whole carrots for the horses. It was a beautiful night and an even more beautiful start.


	9. Man, Look At Those Hills Roll!

Whispered Fire

Chapter 9: Man, Look At Those Hills Roll!!!

The stable smelled musty, but not unkept, more like the way a stable would have smelt a hundred years ago. Willow's eyes adjusted easily from the twilight outside to the candle lit interior. Around her she saw twelve stables, with another door directly across from her.

Spike held the candle out to her, and gingerly she took it. She followed him forward as he moved from the first few stalls—which Willow soon realized were empty—back towards the other door and a faint rustling sound.

A sudden whinny startled her, and she instinctively grabbed a hold of Spike's arm. Blushing sheepishly, Willow made to move back, but Spike caught her and rested an arm about her shoulders.

"Don't worry, Luv. She's just saying hello."

"She?" Willow looked up to Spike for an answer, but he was already moving her closer to another one of the stalls. The rustling grew louder.

Excited, Willow stepped in front of Spike and stepped onto the footrest of the stable door. She wasn't ready for the emergent face of one very large stallion.

"AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

"Willow!" Spike grabbed her about the waist and pulled her quickly from the door, shielding her with his own body. "I thought you said you rode horses?"

  
"When I was ten!" She drew in a shaky breath. Willow wasn't frightened as much as she was startled. The twilight outside and the darkness of a candle lit stable were reeking havoc on her nervous system. Everything she'd been through the last three years told her to never walk outside at night, and to fear things that went bump. Red-eyed horses that jumped out of the dark were right up there on the "NO-WAY" list.

Squaring her shoulders, Willow peeked around Spike's broad frame and looked into the darkened stall. "Is he friendly?"

"I should hope not! I trained the damn thing myself!" The indignation in Spike's voice had Willow looking at him with a questioning look. His smile showed he was only partially kidding. "He's safe enough for me to ride, but I think the mare will be more to you're liking. Shall we have a look?"

She nodded, but held onto his hand as he led her directly across from the stallion to another box. Slowly Willow made out the shape of the beautiful auburn mare. Her coat shone and glistened in the candlelight, and Willow couldn't help but carefully put her hand out to be examined.

With Spike's hands at her hips, she felt confident as the mare took a step forward and sloppily nudged at her hand. Softly, Willow giggled; behind her, Spike smiled.

"What's her name?"

"Mary, Bloody Mary."

Looking up at him, Willow gave Spike the most indignant look she could muster, before looking behind him towards the stallion's box. "I suppose that must be Jack, Jake Daniel's."

He blinked, before a wide grin encompassed his entire face, "Very good Luvy that's exactly right!"

"What!? You're kidding right? Please tell me you didn't name your horses after the happy hour drinks of choice!"

"I didn't name them."

"Then who did?"

"Drusilla and Angelus."

  
"Oh."

Shifting nervously from foot to foot, Willow turned back around to lock eyes with the beautiful creature before her. Knowing Spike wouldn't want to continue as the conversation had progressed—and not really wanting to ruin their night together, Willow stepped forward and held out the carrot she'd retrieved from her pocket. "Here Mary, it's a carrot, you'll like this. It's very yummy."

She spoke softly and gently, doing her best not to startle the mare that now munched greedily on the offered vegetable; Willow smiled to herself. Slowly, she reached out her left hand and brought it up to caress the silken coat of its face. Her smile grew bigger, until she was giggling quietly, hand wet from an exploring snout.

Turning, Willow allowed her smile to be shared with the one man that was allowing her the pleasure. Bending down, Spike nuzzled her cheek before dropping a chase kiss. Willow looked at him from beneath her lashes.

"What say we take them out for a ride?"

Instantly, Willow was excited, scrambling from the door, she moved to the latch and undid it before stepping inside. Spike laughed the entire way.

Twenty minutes later, they crested the hill that separated the back lawn from the cliffs overlooking the crashing seashore. Willow inhaled a great gasp of air at the beauty of the place before her. As far as her eye could see stretched the expanse of the shore over a hundred feet below her. The cliffs stood like centuries, warding all that would ruin the magic of the place to stay away.

Turning Mary slightly, Willow looked to Spike and offered a smile.

Returning the gesture, Spike moved Jack closer, "Like the view, Luv?"

Suddenly, it was as if her world came strikingly into focus. Before her stood a man that reigned as the king of monsters, and yet treated her like a queen made from fragile china. Around her was the beauty of a storybook, and at the same time, a picture from a nightmare of universal proportions. A foreboding house atop a cliff that jutted out over the ocean, regal and kept, it spoke of old money, ghosts, and passion.

And it was her home, hers with Spike…with Spike. Was that true? He'd proven to her that she could trust him, that he would take care of her, that she could believe in him; but in the end, would it change anything? Could he make the voices inside of her head stop screaming?

"Willow?" She started at feeling his arm come around her waist, and even atop Mary, Willow leaned across the inches to rest her head against his chest. "You alright, Pet?"

For a moment she was silent, soaking in the strength of the man before her. She didn't question if Spike was the one anymore; she knew it in her heart. He was the one that was going to change her--completely.

"Can we pick those berries now?"

And in that one statement, that one revelation, Willow had admitted to herself and him, that she was willing to let him try to heal her. She wasn't fooling herself, and as Spike pulled back slightly and raised her eyes to meet his, she knew it would be a long and difficult process. But his smile, the way it broke across his face and lit up his eyes, it seemed worth it, worth the pain this single action against the screaming in her head would cause her.

"Come on, Willow, I'll show you where they are."

The path they took was winding as they cut across the divide between two outcrops of forest near the back of the estate. Around them, large trees rose, blocking the moonlight with their density so that Willow had to stare directly at the blond of Spike's hair just to be able to see where she was going. But Mary seemed to know the way, and the mare followed her stallion unerringly into the dark woods.

They didn't speak; instead Spike listened to the sound of Willow breathing, the comforting sound of her heart beating rhythmically in her chest. He'd never cared for that sound before. As a human he hadn't been able to hear it, so it had been pointless to care about, and as a vampire, it was only the sound of a meal not yet eaten. But with Willow it was different, it was somewhat soothing, reassuring to him that she was still here with him, still trying. And she was trying; he recognized her admission of surrender to him as much as she did.

Days before--was it only days--when he'd first discovered her self-inflicted wounds across the delicate expanse of her stomach, he'd cleaned them while discussing the berries that grew along this path. At the time she'd refused his offer to taste them, insisting that she wouldn't be around long enough to do so, but he'd persisted as he'd bandaged her middle, insisted she'd have a taste. Today she'd admitted to both of them, that she was willing to fight the call of death that would not leave her, and he vowed on that part of him that was still decent, that he would help her ever step of the way.

The path bent sharply, and he raised a warning to Willow, before taking the path and stopping abruptly before the bushes of berries that continued down the path for a hundred yards or so. Carelessly he dismounted before going to Bloody Mary and lifting Willow down, conscious of sliding her body completely down his while their eyes remained locked.

He wanted her, wanted her more than he'd ever wanted Dru. That thought startled him for a moment, and to cover his thoughts up, he quickly set the precious woman down before him and turned her towards the bushes.

Leaning down, he spoke softly into her ear. "Here you go, a bush full of berries. Any idea what kind?" He smiled as she turned her head into the crook of his neck to look up at him. From this angle, with his night vision blocking the glare of all other forms of light, he could see her, as she'd look in but a few short years.

Thin, she'd always be thin, but this would be an ethereal kind of thin; a look of frailty that was so false it would be the downfall of all her future victims. Her eyes were wide and innocent now, but as time passed they'd grow less wide, more shuttered, more seductive. Her eyes would speak first, promising things her body would provide, if those poor fools would only follow her into the darkness. Her cheeks were full now, flushed from the heat of their bodies pressed together and his voice in her ear; but in time, the plumpness would thin out, elongating her features until she looked like a marble statue of Michaelangleo perfection. She'd never be a Venus, no; instead she'd be something so much darker, so much more inviting. Dark red hair against pale lifeless skin, green emerald eyes that would turn gold when angered…he could see where the ridges would form now, how beautiful she'd be then, to both him and his demon. Willow, would be more the Dark Goddess than any other before her; she's be a thousand times more amazing than Drusilla.

He didn't know he'd done it until the ambrosia of her blood passed slowly across his tongue. The thick liquid filled him with a heady glow of warmth, possessiveness, and desire, as he'd never known it. Beneath his mouth she moaned, the sound passed not though his ears, but through his lips. This wasn't a bit for food, or even one for claiming; it was pain for pleasure, hers as much as his.

With care, he grazed the wound with his fangs again, listening to her moan as her body fell against his, giving him all the control. His arms went around her, his hands meeting at her stomach, one anchored there for stability while the other moved just slightly higher to caress the underside of one breast.

Vampires learned quickly the ways of seduction; they had to if they wanted to survive their own masters. But Spike had been a willing learner, understanding early that seduction was a much easier way to both gather food and placate his sire. Now, all of his lessons took on a new meaning. This wasn't about food or dominance, it was about pleasure, Willow's and that thought sent a rush through him that rivaled the innocence of her blood. It didn't help that her blood told all her secrets, and he moaned as well, as he allowed his mind to realize she was still untouched.

Lovingly, he removed his fangs, lapping delicately at the open sore on her neck. Vampire saliva was a powerful antibacterial agent, and their blood even more amazing. With one quick moment, he sliced his tongue against one fang and then again licked at Willow's wounds. He felt the power in his blood transfer to her immediately as the open wounds began to heal on contact. They were long healed before Spike forced himself to pull away.

With even that small amount of his blood coursing through her, she swayed on her feet, intoxicated by the power and the barest hint of the demon that now resided in her. In the old days they'd healed the wounds to prevent being caught, sending their servants to bed in what the others considered a drunken stupor. Over time and without care, the small doses of blood could cause insanity, but Spike had known Willow would be in more jeopardy from infection if he left them open while they spent the night outdoors. She'd be a little drowsy, a little more open, and suddenly, he didn't think that was such a bad idea for her.

He kissed up her neck, nibbling teasingly at her ear before spinning her a half turn and scooping her into his arms. Her head rolled perfectly into his shoulder, and when he looked down, into her eyes, he saw her lazy smile, and a peace that seemed to encompass her into a languid easiness.

"That was nice. I liked that." Her small hand gripped the hem of his jacket and she snuggled more deeply into his warmth, warmth provided soly by her blood. Human blood kicked a vampire's metabolism into high gear. He'd pay for it later since he'd taken less than a half a cup from her, and his body was burning all of his reserves, but if it kept her warm, that was all he cared about.

"I'm glad, Willow. I liked it too. You taste…like a sunset." She didn't know how powerful a complement that was. To a vampire the sunset was freedom, was beauty in a way that no artist could ever capture. It was promise and pleasure, and so much more than words could portray. She was swiftly becoming his sunset, and he knew suddenly, as if a revelation had been delivered to him by the gods, she was his, all his, and he was never going to let her go.

With a kiss to her forehead, he moved them towards the bushes and let her examine the black berries at her leisure. She stared at them for a long time, as if not seeing them, before her delicate hand reached out and picked one from the branch. In a stray moonbeam, she examined it, turning it over and over in her hand before finally brining it slowly to her lips. Spike fought back a moan of his own as she pressed the fruit past her waiting lips. 

In the euphoria of taste, she closed her eyes, savoring the flavor that exploded across her senses. And then, when there was nothing more to taste but the linger of something sweet and forgotten, Willow turned her face towards his and smiled.

"They're Blackberries. I made a pie out of them once, but I burned the bottom. I was going to throw it out when Jessie and Xander came over." She suddenly laughed. "Those two. They just dug right in, eating the sides and the middle without touching the bottom." Then she paused for a long time, reliving the memory. Spike held his breath. "That night, they even cleaned the pan for me. Jessie did it, but Xander had been the one to feed me bits of the pie. Sure he and Jessie ate most of it, but every now and then Xander would lean over with is fork and make me take a bit. That was a really nice night."

His blood was making her tongue loose, he could see that right away. But she wasn't so out of control that she didn't know what she was saying, or who she was saying it too. She'd feel no guilt in the morning, and that was all that mattered. He nuzzled her temple. "Thank you, Willow. Thank you for sharing that with me." He took a risk. "I'm glad he cleaned the pie pan for you."

She looked up at him then, and like he thought it had been, it was the real reason why the night had been so special. She'd tried to tell herself over the years that it had been Xander feeding her, but in reality, it had been the simple act of her friend Jessie taking care of her for a moment by cleaning the pan.

"Spike?" He looked down at her to continue. "How did you know?"

He smiled. "Oh, Luv, vampires have their ways. Now how about we do a little berry picking, we can eat them with lunch." Her smile brightened at that and his along with hers.

"Can we get a lot? If we can gather enough, I'll make another pie, and this time I'll try not to burn the bottom."

He kissed her noes. "Pet, you can burn the bottom all you want, I'll still feed you all the good parts and clean the pan myself."

They picked Blackberries for over an hour before they'd gathered enough. Instead of allowing Willow to ride Mary back, Spike set her firmly in front of him on Jack, having already tethered Mary to the saddle.

They left the forest with Willow leaning against him, her weight slight but comforting. He took them into the gardens, leaving the horses by the gate. "Wouldn't want them to eat the good plants."

Walking slowly for Willow's benefit, Spike settled them on a grassy knoll close enough to the fountain that they could just make out the flash of fish scales in the moonlight as the Koi rose to the surface to snatch some insect or other.

Closer to the house now, they could see into the ballroom that, while not lit up, did have a few of the gas lamps ablaze. That light diffused into the garden, casting faint shadows across the flowers and stone benches.

When the blanket was laid, and Willow gathered securely in the circle of his arms, he began to pull out bits of foodstuffs, feeding her bit by bit some fruit before passing her a sandwich. She ate disinterestingly, chewing the food before swallowing it mechanically, gazing about the garden and soaking in its beauty.

When she'd finished she suddenly moved away from him, shifting to the other side of the blanket and lying across it so that on her side, she looked up at him from the pillow of her arms.

"Tell me a secret, something no one else knows." It was a request, not a demand. She wanted to know something about him, and he understood the need for it to be a secret. She'd been allowing herself to be controlled completely by him, and while most of her needed that, a large part of her also needed to feel in control of herself. Having something over your controller was always an easy way to feel secure.

He made a show of thinking up something, until his constant "ums" and "ahs" coaxed a giggle out of her. Leaning back against his forearms he let out a sigh.

"All right, a secret. It's a secret no one living knows, will that work?" She seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding her head for him to continue. "Right then, ok, here's my secret: two hundred years ago, I was a poet. Not a writer, those blokes did books and novels and all that longwinded stuff. Nope, I wrote the good stuff, the twenty-liners that made chits weep their hearts out." He noted her open-mouthed expression. "What? Surprised ol' Spike used to write poetry?" He acted indignant. "Well, it's not like I do that stuff anymore. No, I've learned that actions speak a whole lot louder than words." The evil glint in his eye spoke of exactly what he meant.

For a moment Willow was too stunned to talk, just gazed at the vampire known as William the Bloody and tried to imagine him as a poet, slaving over paper and quill to create something beautiful. "W-were you any good?"

He laughed a self-depreciating laugh that struck Willow deeply making her want to cringe. "Well, I certainly thought so. Course, back then I was a whiner to the word. I probably wasn't too bad, but definitely not great, learned that the hard way." He trailed off for a moment, and Willow worried that she's pushed him into a very bad memory. Then suddenly, he seemed to shake it off before smiling at her. "I had a piece published once, in a collected bit of works from all over Britain. It wasn't much and to be honest I hated that piece most of all, but it's kind of a love hate relationship now. It was that stupid bit of paper and ink that caught Drusilla's eye. She read it and decided I was the one, so she made Angelus and Darla travel all the way to backwater London so she could turn me. I was in a sorry state that night. But by nights end, after my first kill, I was in much better mood."

Her eyes were huge, she could feel them. "D-do you mean, Drusilla was the one that turned you?"

Spike cocked an eyebrow at her. "Who did you think turned me? Angelus? That pillock would never even think about bringing another male into his little harem! Oh, my princess got a sure whipping for my induction into the family, but she didn't seem to mind. Nope, Dru changed me and taught me to kill, and by that I do mean just that, kill. Angelus, when the bastard finally realized I wasn't going to off myself by falling on a stake, was the one who finally taught me the rest." He purposefully trailed off then, not wanting to tell Willow about the nights of blood and screaming death he'd inflicted upon the world at the side of Angelus. His Grandsire had been like a god to him back then, and Spike wasn't willing to admit that to anyone after being betrayed as he'd been.

Deciding a change in subject was warranted, he returned her question. "What about you, Willow, how about a secret?"

When she was done, he wished he'd never asked.


	10. If I Tell You, I’ll Have To Kill You Are...

"If I Tell You, I'll Have To Kill You; Are You Sure You Want To Know?"  
  
"Did you ever have a pet?" Willow asked, a strange and distant expression suddenly upon her face. In the moonlight she looked beautiful and delicate, like the china doll that Spike had taken to thinking of her as. She was marvelous, her red hair perfectly straight like the fall of silk from the ream. Her eyes reflected the flames of the ballroom and shone like green fire while her lips held all the color of the flames. But her skin was by far the most amazing sight. Flawless, it glowed in the moonlight, a substance less like skin, and more like porcelain, colorless and perfect, smooth and unadorned with anything to detract from the simple splendor of itself.  
  
"Not a pet as you'd like to hear about, Luv. Vampires don't keep pets that humans would find entertaining." He saw it in her eyes, she understood what he meant. She'd no doubt read about his less fortunate victims whom he'd kept in cages for his own amusement; those damn Watcher Journals were more hindrance than help.  
  
But the look passed quickly from her eyes, and soon she was staring at the fountain, watching morbidly as the insects paused and were quickly swallowed whole by the Koi. Her body was serene, but Spike could tell by her eyes she was anything but. Behind eyelashes the color of true blood, Willow's eyes were haunted, clouded over with memory and past pain. Spike immediately wished he'd never asked the question. He tried to take it back.  
  
"Luv, never mind, you'll tell me when you're ready. I was a fool to try and pus-"  
  
"I had a kitten once," she began, a distant tone in her voice so that it swayed with the rise and fall of each word. "She was beautiful."  
  
"My father adored me, he always did. He used to call me his little princess until Mother stopped him. Have you ever noticed in fairy tales, the mother is always called 'mother'? I mean most children call their mothers 'mom' or 'mamma', not 'mother.' I always had a rule, when I wanted to be loved I'd call her 'mamma', and when I wanted to disappear I'd call her 'mother.' It usually worked, she'd respond to 'mamma' and ignore me when I called her 'mother'; unless we were in a public place. Then I was required to call her 'mother', she liked it that way, said she felt more important. I didn't care too much, I usually didn't want to be loved by her anyway." She trailed off for a moment, her hands going from the blanket to her hair and then back again, finally folding in her lap before her eyes met his.  
  
"My father adored me.until I told him things." She paused now, before looking beseechingly into his pale blue eyes. "If I tell you a secret, will you still promise to take care of me? It's not a nice secret, not nice like yours, yours was nice. I bet I'd like your poetry, I bet it's very nice-romantic-I've always thought of you that way, especially when I think of you with Drusilla. You must have loved her very much. I want to be loved that much.daddy never loved me quite that much.  
  
"I won't tell you the secret if it'll change things between us." Her haunted eyes turned to his, tiny pupils looking back at him in a mixture of fear and hope.  
  
Suddenly the china doll image was gone, replaced by the look of a beaten and destroyed little girl, the girl Spike had been fighting against for weeks; a little girl that was the very essence of Willow. For a moment back on the ride, he'd thought she'd somehow managed to break out of the spell she'd come under, a spell that required her to act like a child and demand a child's demands. But no, she was still very much the child, very much the frightened and confused little girl that needed as much direction as humanly-or vampirally possible.  
  
Slowly, so she could track each and every move of his muscles, he reached for her, pulling her into his chest so that her head rested in the crook of his neck, her arms folded across her chest to be crossed by his, her legs bending slightly for stability against his own while one of his longer legs bent at the knee tenting over the top of hers and cocooning her body in his. Not one part of her was tense, but not a single part relaxed either, it was as if she waited, silently as the night around them, for some promise she was desperate to have him make to her. He obliged her, though he now believed he wanting nothing to do with this secret, and hated himself all the more for that selfish thought.  
  
"No matter what you tell me, or how you say it; no matter what you do or why you do it, there isn't a single thing that you could say or do that would ever make me break my promise to you Willow. I will care for you as you've never been cared for in the past, I'll protect you as no living man or woman ever was capable of. You are wrapped in the arms of a master vampire, one that has never in his life broken a promise to any living soul." It wasn't a lie. He'd broken many a promise to his vampire brethren, but none of them had souls, not even Angel, no matter what the wanker thought he had.  
  
Spike felt her relax, her body finally easing itself of some of the tension it harbored. She let her neck loosen, so that her head fell back in just the right way, that should the desire hit him, Spike could once again drink of her essence, of her life. He saw with vampire eyes the scar she'd carry a lifetime with her. It was the scar of one who'd been supped from, one who'd given life to a vampire in the past. To vampires in Europe, such a mark was one of honor, it meant that the human had provided the vampire with a meal and had not been slain, it meant the vampire somehow respected the human, it meant she was not to be harmed. But it was not a mark; it was not a bite of possession. This mark told no one that Willow belonged to him; no, that mark was for later, when he could explain exactly what it meant, and what price it would come with. For now, against civilized vampires in Europe, she was safe; which was little comfort to him here.  
  
He startled as he saw the muscles of her neck contract, realizing she was once again speaking. Spike cast all other distractions aside, he needed to hear her story, even if all he wanted to do was erase all her other memories and start again from scratch. But he had to know, had to understand this exquisite woman before him, so in quite patience that soon became quite rage, he listened to her story.  
  
"My secret," she began, a soft and distant tone to her voice that made it seem as if she were no longer with him, but thousands of miles away, back in Sunnydale, California, in a large house on Greenville Drive. "I told papa the secret because I wanted it to stop. I thought papa could make it stop. That's what papa's are supposed to do, they're supposed to make bad things stop. So I told papa about the kitten and he told mother, and then they fought, and papa didn't believe me anymore." She paused as if to reconsider the memory. "No, I think papa believed me, it was just better if he didn't, so he pretended that he didn't believe me. Does that make sense?" She lifted her eyes beseechingly to his own blue ones, and at his nod, she continued.  
  
"But that's not really the secret is it? That's just what happened. I-I don't really want to tell it to you. Papa was supposed to take care of me, that's what papa's do, but after I told him he never did again. But you promised, you said you would not matter what I told you; and you told me I had to try to trust you, so I'm going to try. I'll tell and then I'll see if you still keep your promises. Is that fair, will that be ok? Will you be mad at me if I do it because I want to trust you?" Again she looked at him, and again, he nodded, not wanting to speak and break her rhythm.  
  
At his nod, her eyes went hollow again, and Spike could easily tell she was once again in the memory of her secret. Willow was silent for a long time, the moon reflecting off her skin and hair, the sound of her heartbeat the only indication that this beautiful piece of artwork was indeed living and not simply stone.  
  
The thing that struck him the most when she began to speak again, was that her voice was no longer that of a seventeen year old girl; it now possessed the inner innocence and calming nature of a child. For the moment, Willow was truly the child, and he was truly the master.  
  
"Papa was gone a long time. He'd spent three months in Jerusalem, studying with some of the other Rabbis. I was ten at the time and mother left me at home easily when she went on trips now. Conferences and speaking engagements were her life now that her new book was selling like mad. "Raising Children After Spock", that was the title of her book. I read it when I was twelve, it was such bullshit, but I told my mother it was great; just like all good little girls should.  
  
"But that was twelve and this was ten. Mother came back to the house two days before papa, and she'd been both mad and happy. Mad because the flowers I was supposed to water had died in the heat, and happy because their deaths were enough for her to convince papa that we needed a gardener since I wasn't capable of watering a few flowers." She paused, gazing at the flowering splendor of the garden around them. "I had watered them, every day even, but the sun.it was just too much for them. They weren't supposed to be planted that far down south, but mother insisted they'd bloom just fine. Now, now I think she did it because she knew I'd fail, that I'd kill them and I'd look bad in front of papa, and he'd have to give her the gardener she wanted. But.maybe I'm making something out of nothing." She shrugged, her shoulders shifting into his own and he felt her relax again at knowing how close to her he was.  
  
"So mother got her gardener, and she was happy enough about that that she didn't put me on restriction for the dead flowers. That meant I could still go to Xander's birthday party. Mother didn't like Xander very much, she said he was a bad influence. Xander was different, very different from anyone else I'd ever met. He wasn't like Jessie and I, he was always trying to spend the night at our houses, and sometimes, when my parents were both away, I'd let him sleep in my bed, and I'd sleep on papa's side in my parents room.  
  
"But it wasn't Xander's fault that he was so different. His mom was a stripper when we were kids, and her sleazy boyfriend used to hit Xander all the time. He usually came to my house after getting hit because he didn't want Jessie to see him cry, so I started making cold compresses and keeping them in the freezer. I also bought Xander steaks because they brought down the swelling and he liked to eat them afterwards. It used to be a big joke, how we'd use them on his face at first and then eat it, I think it was a kind of therapy in and of itself. But I guess that's not the secret, is it?" She didn't wait for his answer, just moved on.  
  
"Mother didn't want me to spend time with Xander and Jessie, but it was the one thing that I absolutely refused to give up; and since I whined to papa if I didn't get to seem them regularly, and he stood up for me against mother, she usually let me go; though I think she secretly hated me for it.  
  
"That was a Monday, by Wednesday, papa was home and he had a special surprise for me, a very special surprise.  
  
"He told me that since Xander was going to get all kinds of presents on Saturday, and since I'd been such a good girl while he was away, I was going to get an extra special surprise. That's what he told me on the phone when he called to say that he was going to be late getting back from the airport. I wasn't so sad about the extra two hours after that.  
  
"When he got home, he had his extra big suitcase in one hand, the kind on rollers that very important people used to carry until some knockoff made them affordable to everyone. Back then, only important people had them. But in his other hand, was a carrier, you know, the kind they put animals in on airplanes.  
  
"It wasn't too big, about this big, by that tall, and this deep." She indicated with her hands a medium sized kennel. "And it wasn't that boring tan color either! No, papa had gone all out and bought an all black one, with black grading. But the rivets that held the top and bottom together were white, so that the whole thing was this very vogue black and white. I loved it the moment I saw it. We weren't allowed to have much black and white in the house, mother said they were both colors of the dead in almost every culture for a reason. Even back then Sunnydale wasn't a very friendly place, I think even my mother was worried about how many people died or just disappeared in those days.  
  
"But isn't it strange, I knew that I was getting a present-an extra special one at that-and I could seen the box clear as day and knew what it was for, but all I really cared about was seeing my papa again. He lifted me into his arms the moment he set his things down, swinging me into the air and kissing me all over. He even ignored mother's warnings and kept calling me princess." She trailed off for a moment, her eyes and mouth smiling just the tiniest bit at that particular part of the memory.  
  
"I wanted him to hold me forever. I missed everything about him, the way he smelled, the way his hair was parted even then to cover up the bald spot at the top of his head. I loved the mustache he grew even though mother didn't like it, and I loved that I knew he was going to rub his stubbly cheek against mine any moment in his customary hello. I craved the sound of his voice directly in my ears and not passing over thousands of miles of cabling. But most of all I loved his mass. Sounds strange doesn't it? To say I loved his mass and not his warmth. But it wasn't the warmth, warmth came from blankets and hot showers, and those things I could get on my own, home alone in the house for days and weeks at a time. No, his mass, the simple physical substance that was papa was what I craved, needed so much that in those moments after he came home, I didn't want to let him go, and cried when he tried to put me down. I didn't cry often back then," Willow's voice colored with embarrassment. "Not like now. But back then I only cried when I was happy.to cry because I was sad would mean I cried all the time.  
  
"But papa didn't want to see me cry and kept asking me what was wrong, and all I could do was hold him tighter and cry, I didn't even have the words back then to make him understand-when I did have the words, I didn't dare speak them."  
  
Suddenly, her demeanor changed, and she was no longer the little girl she'd been. Once again Willow was the stone in the garden, a piece of marble, cold and unmoving, silent and witnessing. "Mother came in from the kitchen then. She saw I was crying and that papa was asking after me. She told him to stop and physically grabbed me out of his arms and put me in a chair. 'Don't coddle her Ira, that's what she wants, if you give her what she wants like that she'll always be a crybaby.' But my father protested, tried to explain that something must be really wrong with me since I never cried and I was still crying in the chair, though for different reasons than before now. She wouldn't hear of it 'Ira, if she doesn't learn she'll never understand. Willow!' This she directed at me with ice in her voice and I knew better than to not look up and meet her gaze with my own tearstained one. 'This is how you greet your father when he comes home.' And she went to him, folding him into her arms and kissing him lightly before resting her head on his shoulder and then pulled away. 'How was the flight, darling?' And with one last glance in my direction, he told her, and she pulled him into the living room, to the couch farthest from the chair I was sitting in.  
  
"Mother was always good at gaining and hold papa's attention. I used to think she had some magic spell she'd placed over him when she came home. That she'd say some magic words and he'd instantly love her and want to spend every waking moment with her. Later, when I got older, I thought it was sex, that maybe she was just good in bed, at least that's what the soap operas had you believing was the key to holding a man's attention. It wasn't until much later that I realized what it was, he was afraid of her, absolutely afraid of her, and so he bent and broke to her will, because it was easier than anything she could come up with; and she could come up with the most devious things."  
  
Willow paused again, shifting slightly so that she could look into his eyes. "Did you like your mother, Spike? Or should I say, did William like his mother?" The emptiness was still in her voice and Spike hazard a guess that she had no idea what she was really asking. He chose to answer her question anyway.  
  
"No, Willow, neither I nor William cared much for our mother. She was a whore turned business woman who cared more for her girls than her son." That was a story for another day, and as he saw Willow fall back against his chest to continue her story, he knew she'd heard enough of the truth to continue.  
  
"After about a half an hour of papa trying to include me in the conversation, and mother speaking right over me only to apologize haphazardly when papa called her on it, he turned back to me with a smile and stood to go to the entrance way. He told me to close my eyes and be very quiet. Mother asked him what the big deal was, but papa told her it was a special surprise for his princess. Mother told him to quit calling me that, but papa called me that anyway when he knelt down before me with the kennel. 'Princess, papa feels really bad about not being here, and since a lot of the time your home all alone because of my and mamma's work, I thought you deserved a special present. So I'll open the little door, and you put your hand inside and tell me what you feel, no peeking now.' Mother told him he was being ridiculous, but I was more excited then ever.  
  
"I did what he told me to. With my eyes still closed, one hand covering them, I slowly reached in. For a second I couldn't feel anything, and the bitter disappointment of it all nearly caused me to cry. But then I felt it. It was soft and warm, and behind that softness and warmth was mass, was substance that even from the distance of a foot I could hear breathing slowly.  
  
"It seems silly now, but then I squealed with delight and popped both my eyes open and reached in with both hands to pull it out of the carrying case. What I saw was the most beautiful white kitten you've ever seen. She was all white except for her back left paw, that paw had a cute little black sock on it. The kitten was sleeping, and even when I held it and pet it over and over it didn't wake up or even stir. Papa told me she'd just been spayed so that she couldn't have any babies, and she was still sleeping off the procedure; but even her now forced imperfection didn't bother me, she was adorable. But of course, mother had to ruin it, she always did."  
  
At this, Willow curled tighter against him, going so far as to wrap her own hands around the arms that now rested against her breasts. She did not seem frightened, there was no shaking of limbs or increased heart rate, but never the less Spike understood that this moment from Willow's past was a memory she had no desire to relive, and yet relived often. As if she could not escape the memory and while abhorred to recall it, was indeed a slave to it all the same. And so, Spike tightened his grip, and whispered soothing words to her until he deemed they were no long effective against the memory, and instead reasoned to hear the entire thing and later find a way to comfort her nightmares. He had no way of knowing it was hardly the memory she'd relive in nightmares for the next few weeks; there were other memories in this sequence even more engrained and horrifying.  
  
"I'll never forget the sound of her voice, so smug and superior, and even back then, back when little girls still adored their mothers and thought the world of them, I thought she sounded cold and unfeeling. It wasn't the first time, but it did begin the realization that she was not the mother of stories, more like the evil stepmother. 'Now Willow, that puppy is to stay out in the yard at all times! I don't want you or any of your little friends to bring him into the house, do you understand? You know how allergic I am to animals, and it was only through a great deal of begging on your father's part that you were even allowed that dog--a purebred Shitzu I might add. With enough attention, you might actually be able to show her.'  
  
"I saw the moment the gravity of the situation hit my father. In my hands was no puppy, and definitely not a Shitzu; I was holding a tiny, fluffy white kitten, a kitten that was obviously never meant to be an outdoor kitty. My father's eyes pleaded for me to be silent, and out of fear and desperation I obeyed as he turned back to my mother. His voice was soft as he spoke, meek. Now, I think he knew what was coming. 'Sheila, darling, I know we discussed a puppy for Willow, but I got a call from the breeder in Jerusalem saying that the last one had died and she'd sold the rest. I'd already gotten the case and such at the pet store over the phone, so when I went to pick it up, I figured I'd just grab another puppy there. But when I got there they didn't have any toy dogs, only large ones and I know how fearful you are of large dogs.' Looking back on it, I think he said that to try and placate her, to let her know that a part of this present wasn't entirely for me but for her as well. That he'd considered her in this purchase and acquisition. At the time I didn't care, I was just afraid of mother's reaction. 'So I tried to find something just as small to fit in the kennel, and the store had a litter of kittens. When I saw them I just knew Willow had to have one.' But he didn't get to finish the rest of his story, no, not then or ever, mother wouldn't hear of it.  
  
"In a leap she was upon me, wrestling the sleeping and still sore kitten from my hands as if it were nothing more than a new stuffed animal to add to my upstairs collection by the window. She held it out in front of her as if it were some kind of demon, some unholy thing that she didn't dare cuddle or hold close. 'What is this, Ira?! A cat! You know how much I hate cats! You know I can't stand them! How dare you go against me like this! I told you that Willow could have a dog-under much protest I might add-and now you undermine me once again and get her a cat! How dare you!? Take it! Take it!' And she thrust the kitten at my father like a bomb, and the poor creature whined in pain as its stitches pulled with the rough handling. My father held it gently until I grabbed it and pulled it out of the line of fire. My mother didn't fail to notice. 'Get rid of it, Ira! Get rid of it now!'"  
  
Willow gave a sigh, the sound of a thousand such sighs meeting his vampire ears with just that one. Yes, this was a memory that Willow relived often, relived and regretted as much as she rejoiced in it. A sigh that meant a triumph and a failure, and the conflict between which had been greater.  
  
"I'm not really sure what came over me. She was screaming by then, and papa looked as if he might cave in, as if he might actually take the little kitten away from me simply because it displeased mother. So, I did it. I did the one thing I knew would be worse for everyone in the end, I said no. I told her papa wasn't going to get rid of the kitten that she was mine and I was going to keep her always. It was one of the few times in my life I've ever stood up to my mother, and like all the other times, it was one of the few times she looked as if she might hit me and never stop.  
  
"She's never hit me before. Did your mother ever hit you?" She didn't pause for an answer, her subconscious telling her this was not a subject to discuss-that or her story needed telling more than his did. "She never once hit me. All of her books talk about raising children without violence, you know, treating children like children-not capable of reasoning like adults. I personally think that's bullshit, but adults don't listen if they don't want too.  
  
"But she was angry, angry with me, and papa; some days I think she was angry with the world. You could see it in her eyes, in the center of her soul. There was rage in her eyes, and I'm sure, if given the chance, she would have done something to expel that rage. But she didn't have a chance; empowered by my own words, papa too agreed with me. I think she realized that against the two of us-drawn together on this united front-she couldn't hope to win. Then again, maybe she was just biding her time. But she instantly relented, saying that if it meant that much to me then of course I could keep it, but that the kitten had to stay outside."  
  
Willow paused, and Spike could hear the deep in drawing of breath that was so uncharacteristic of the Willow of Sunnydale, and the embodiment of the Willow of now. He held her closer to him, beginning a slow rocking motion that he hoped would make her telling easier. She remained quite for a moment longer, before the childlike continence of her voice was back.  
  
"I told mother that I wanted the kitten to say inside, and papa-who was searching for a compromise-said I could as long as she stayed only in my room or outside. I didn't like that too much, I wanted her to be able to come down and sit with me when I was lonely, or when I was waiting for mamma or papa to come home, but I gave in easily-it was better than nothing.  
  
"Mamma kissed me then and sent me up to my room to play with the new kitten, and I went, because she was whispering to papa and I knew they'd been away from each other for a very long time. I was young, but I understood loneliness, and back then I thought even my mother felt it.  
  
"So I took the kitten upstairs and sat down with her on the bed. She was still sleeping, more ruefully now that she wasn't being manhandled. I think I must have stared at her for hours, just watching the rise and fall of her tiny little chest. In my eyes she was perfect, beautiful in a way that most creatures cannot attain." Willow turned, gazing up at him for but a second. "That's the way I thought of you too. The night you asked me to do the spell for you, the night you came in and just talked to me. At first I didn't think that way, I was scared, but when I really looked, when I saw what your face really looked like, I could see that this was the true you, the true William the.whatever your last name is."  
  
"Randal. William Randal. There's a middle name in there but if I told you I'd have to kill you." He smiled, leaning down to nip playfully at her neck, hoping to distract her from her sadness for just a moment before letting her continue.  
  
"William Randal," she rolled the name around in her mouth, catching the feel for it and committing it to memory. "That's a nice name, a good name for a poet. Spike's a good name too, though. I think I'll stick with Spike." He kissed her hair to show his approval.  
  
Then she continued as if nothing had happened, as if her original track had never been interrupted. "I thought you were perfect when I first saw you. Not perfect of body, or mind, or anything like that. No, you were gorgeous, and smart; beautiful and dangerous. You were all those things but they didn't define you, didn't make you who you were, at least not individually. You were a product of those things and more, of circumstance and history, of the people around you and fate itself. And that's what made you so mysterious, not because you were a demon or a vampire, or an immortal, but because you were all of those things, and because at your core, you were still human-and humanity is the greatest mystery of all."  
  
He didn't know how to respond to such a claim, so he remained silent, and she continued.  
  
"That's what I thought of the kitten, she was cute and soft, cuddly, and adorable. But she was other things too. She was a mystery to me, a tiny mystery that I thought I'd spend the rest of our days together unraveling. You see, she was mass, she was a living thing that could stay with me, be with me when all others abandoned me. In her I saw the answer to the mystery of why warmth was not mass to me, why heat could not comfort me. So I named her the epitome of the enigma. I named her after both heat and mass, the greatest of both that I understood at the time. I called her Star, and she was mine.  
  
"I let her sleep all that night, tucked close to me, so that I would know the instant she woke up. And it was so strange, but on that night, with my parents having sex down the hall and my mother screaming the way I learned later that my father liked, I slept, quietly, and without nightmares. It was because of Star, because of mass, and I was grateful.  
  
"In the morning, when I woke up, she was there, licking softly at my face, and I knew the way little girls know these things, that I would adore her far beyond her life, and possibly beyond my own.  
  
"I called her Star so she'd learn her own name, and I carried her down stairs and pulled one of my mother's favorite crystal bowls from the expensive cabinet in the dinning room, and fed her milk and tuna from it. Later I had my father take me to the store where I got Star all kinds of adorable things, like a fluffy little kitty bed, a dozen toys I didn't know she'd never play with, and an outdoor litter box for my balcony.  
  
"When I got home, I presented each item to her, explaining how each was used and for what purpose, and she sat quietly, listening to the sound of my voice, before climbing into my lap and letting me love her. And I did love her. Even then, even then with only a day behind us, I knew that a part of my life which had always revolved around my father, was now transferred to the kitten he'd brought home for me and allowed me to keep against mother's will. Star was precious to me for so many reasons."  
  
And here Willow stopped, her shoulders tensing, her body going as taunt as a string upon a drawn bow. The tension around them rose, until she either had to speak or forget the story all together and go back to bed to ignore the entire day. Spike reasoned all these things for her, weighing the pros and cons of each, and finally, he remained where he was, rocking her slowly back and forth, and forcing her to continue.  
  
Continue she did. "It wasn't even a month really. Mother and papa had both left and come back twice already, and while they were gone, I'd brought Star downstairs to keep me company over the days when my family disappeared. But after a month, came the postcard from the vet saying that Star needed another round of shots and a check up for her previous procedures. Mamma convinced papa that Star needed to be de-clawed at the same time. So on a Friday, one of the last days of summer, I left Star with my mother as papa took me to Jesse's house for a slumber party before going to the airport for another trip.  
  
"I didn't call mother from Jesse's house, I never called her if I went away. She called from time to time on her business trips, usually to make sure the house was still standing and that Xander and Jessie hadn't broken anymore furniture, but I never called her. This night was no different, and to be honest, it was a trying night. That night, Xander told Jessie about the beatings, and the three of us vowed to do everything we could to keep Xander away from that horrible man. We hatched scheme after scheme, finding ways to keep Xander at our houses; and over the years, those tricks would prove effective in reducing the number of steaks that got eaten in my kitchen.  
  
"But when I got home I did things a little differently. I was still high off the plans the three of us had fostered the night before, and I was in a good enough mood to share with mamma. She'd been very nice to me the last few days, even taking me out to lunch a few days before when one of her lunch meetings had been canceled at the last minute.  
  
"When I got there I hugged her-a rare occurrence between us, and sat at the table after grabbing a cookie from the jar on the counter. And while I sat there, cookie slowly turning to crumbs in my hand, she cooking dinner for the two of us at the stove, she told me what had happened to Star.  
  
"Mother had been trying to get Star into the car, neglecting to use the kennel because Star had quite forcefully decided she hated the contraption. So mother had tried to carry her to the car and put her in the back seat. She told me she got Star into the car, but as she was trying to close the door, my kitty jumped out and ran for some bushes. When mother tried to get her, she scurried across the street and disappeared into the neighbor's wild backyard. She told me she'd called the Synclairs-the neighbors-and they'd promised to look for her. And that was how mother explained it, that Star had run away and was sure to come home tonight for dinner.  
  
"But she didn't come home that night, or the next; and each night I cried a little louder and a little longer, until my mother forced three Valium down my throat on the third night and I slept right through the night the day and the following night, so that she was gone on her next trip when I awoke.  
  
"I was alone, no mother, no papa, no mass to comfort me. I cried still more as I tried to figure out why Star would leave me. Had I done something wrong? Had I hurt her? I couldn't figure it out, why she'd run away when all I wanted to do was love her more than anything else in the entire world.  
  
"Two days later, I pulled my bicycle out of the garage to visit Xander and Jesse. They'd been over the day before to help search the neighborhood for Star; they both knew how important to me she was. But with Xander comes a mountain of junkfood, and as I carried yesterday's garbage out to the tin can and lifted the lid, something made me stop the throwing motion I set with the white bag I carried.  
  
"Inside, was a big, black plastic bag that mother sometimes used for gardening weeds. But the bag was hardly full, and mother always insisted on keeping the bag until nothing more could fit into it. 'Waste not, want not, Willow.'  
  
"Something just wasn't right, but even so, I can't really tell you what made me set down the white bag in my right hand only to exchange it for the lumpy black one in the can. I put the lid back on the barrel to make a stage, and then slowly untied the pull strings.  
  
"At the first smell, I knew. I knew, and as my stomach heaved, I thought I might just throw-up my heart along with everything else inside me. I told myself, don't open the bag, don't take that thing out wrapped in dirty brown towels used as rags. Don't bring it into the light and see, just put it away and pretend you didn't see anything strange in the trash, then just throw the candy wrappers and potato chip bags in there and go to Jesse's.  
  
"But I couldn't, not anymore than I've ever been able to forget something. So as my mind screamed at me not to, my hands pulled the towel from the bag and placed it on the trash can. I'm not really sure what happened to the plastic bag, later I couldn't find it-but I guess that's not important.  
  
"The towels came back clean as I unwrapped Star's body. How strange I thought, if she'd been hit by a car then there should at least be some blood, some guts, some bits and pieces of gravel that clung to her despite gravity. But there was no blood, and as I uncovered her rotting corpse-for the temperature had been unbearable these last few days, and the can metal, the bag black-I saw that her eyes were still open, still innocent looking.  
  
"At that point I didn't care about the smell any longer. I picked her up and held her, stroking her back on the side of my prestigious house at the end of Greenville Drive. I held her close and kissed her, calling her name over and over as my tears splashed onto her coat.  
  
"I don't know how long I stood there. I don't know how long I petted her and called her name, but eventually I noticed that when I started my strokes at her head and moved down, her body moved, and something in that was so very wrong considering rigamotis had turned the rest of her body to mushy stone.  
  
"I didn't scream when I discovered that her tiny neck had been broken. Star was dead, my mass was gone, and I knew who'd done it, and even why. So I kissed her once more, and told her she'd been the best kitty ever. Then I left the blankets and garbage where they lay, and moved to the backyard. And there, in a back corner, under the Oak tree that had stood there for at least a century, I buried her among the roots and gravel. I left no marker, what point would there be to it? She was dead, and only I knew where her body was kept. I treasure the secret even now, and on nights I pray to the Goddess, I go to that spot because it represents my greatest joy and my greatest heartache.  
  
"Because you see, Star didn't die because she was as kitty, and she didn't die because she caused my mother's allergies to act up. No, she died because she was my kitty, she died because papa had given her to me against mother-because we'd both stood against mother and that was not allowed.  
  
"She died because I rose my voice, she died because I wanted her. Star died for my mother's jealousy of me, because of father's love for me, because mother had to be number one or nothing. She died because of me, and I don't think I'll ever get over that."  
  
Willow turned now, turned into his chest and grabbed onto the lapels of his jacket. Her tears were slow at first, gaining speed quickly until they tore form her in great gasping sobs that wet his jacket and soaked through to his heart. She sobbed without words, crying out years of frustration and rage, of sorrow that had eaten the heart and soul out of a little ten year old girl. Willow sobbed and screamed and pulled at his jacket, and all the while, Spike just rocked her, and let her cry.  
  
She didn't stop for a long time, long enough for the moon to move visibly across the sky above them, long enough that the milky light no longer fell directly upon her, but now hallowed her head, as if Willow's great Goddess were comforting her daughter as best she could. And it was comfort, that much to Spike was assured. No god or goddess, no demon god either, would condemn the girl in his arms, not for a single action she'd taken. But he stayed silent, the tale wasn't finished.  
  
And after a long time, long enough for the night flowers to begin to close, she spoke again, her voice devoid of the tears that had long since run out. "I didn't go to Jesse's that day. I only came out of the garden when it started to rain, and the sun had disappeared to be replaced by the moon. I waited a full day in the living room, waited because I knew papa would be home, and I would finally tell him exactly what I thought.  
  
"When he did come home he knew something was wrong. I neither ran to greet him, nor moved from my spot in the chair mother had thrown me into only three weeks before. Something in my face must have prompted him to ignore the endearments. 'What's wrong, Willow?' He stepped more fully into the room, then, squatted down to meet me at eye level while his hand moved to my knee. 'Your wife,' I said. 'Killed Star, broke her neck and threw her away like garbage.'  
  
"I knew instantly that he believed me. His face contorted in a way I cannot describe, but carried rage and sorrow in equal increments. He held me as I cried then. Held me close to his heart and stroked my back. He offered me another kitten, said we'd get her right now if I wanted, but I declined, I'd never ask for another kitten again, another piece of mass to keep me company; I didn't dare tempt mother's wrath.  
  
"He put me to bed when he learned I hadn't slept in two days, put me to sleep with a Valium I did not protest.  
  
"When I awoke the next day, it was to the sound of screaming coming from my parent's bedroom. Mother had come home, and it seemed as if father were finally going to do it, finally stand up to her. But as I listened, my father's voice became smaller, and my mother's larger, until only my mother's voice could be heard through the walls. And I knew, just as I'd known by whom and why Star had died, that my father had lost, and mother had finally won.  
  
"I didn't leave my room that day, and no one came to see me either. I think now my father was ashamed, but who can ever be certain. One thing I do know is that when I came down the next morning for breakfast, my mother greeted me warmly and fed me my favorite breakfast food. Papa stayed hidden behind his newspaper.  
  
"You see," and at this Willow pulled away from his rocking embrace, pulled away to stare at him away from the circle of his arms. "That was all mother wanted really, just to have the memory of Star gone. She told me later when I brought her up at dinner that she was gone and not to talk about her anymore. Mother had won and so she was kind to papa and me. She didn't have anything more to worry about, the one defiance that we'd put forth had been silence. I don't even think she knows why she did it.  
  
"When I tried to talk to papa about it, he told me I'd overreached, that mamma had found Star dead in the road when she'd gone looking and hadn't had the heart to tell me she was dead. When I protested that mother had killed her, he screamed at me for making such a judgment and sent me away. I never brought it up again with him.  
  
"Later, about a month or so, I came home from school to find that mother had bought me a fish tank with a dozen tropical fish in it. 'This is more of a pet for a ten year old, Willow. Here, I'll even help you carry it up.' That the fish had been her original and only idea of a decent pet for a ten year old, did not escape my mind as I watched them swimming methodically back and forth in the darkness of my room. I didn't like them, but kept quiet, feeding them as was appropriate, and ignoring them the rest of the time. After a few months, the housekeeper took to caring for them, and that was it, they just sat on my desk, dying and being replaced until Angelus killed them all last summer. When mother questioned me about how they'd all died, I just told her I'd found them in the road with their necks broken. She didn't talk to me for weeks after that."  
  
Physically exhausted and emotionally drained, Willow turned her eyes from that distant memory she'd been living in and crawled back into his embrace. Once secure, he rocked her, cooing softly to her words that made no sense and weren't meant to. He asked her no more questions and she volunteered no more information; and together they sat that way until the early morning light forced them inside to the comfort and security of a room ablaze with firelight.  
  
He changed her clothing quickly, noting that even though the room was far too warm to be comfortable, Willow was shivering. Spike set her down on the coverlet and carefully brushed out her long trestles, mindful to work though the tangles without a hint of pain.  
  
And that was the way Willow sat, letting the world effect her, and doing nothing to stand in its way. She allowed Spike to tuck her in later, curling her body obligingly around his as she laid her head upon his shoulder and closed her eyes. She allowed his fingers through her hair to lull her into sleep, though they did not soothe her.  
  
As the day progressed and one nightmare after another raked her mind and body so that Spike had to awake her often to lessen her pain, Willow began to tire again of this place, of life. And yet, she drew her strength from the cold heat of Spike's embrace, of his soft tones as he tried to coax her into a dreamless sleep, and the feel of his fingers against her back as she tried to calm her breathing. She was desperately tired of living, but not tired of Spike, of his gentle nature, of his infinite kindnesses towards her.  
  
Somewhere between three and four in the afternoon, she sat up against him, looking down into his pale blue eyes as he gazed back at her, worry etched into his features. She looked at him a long time, remembering that he'd promised her secret would not compromise anything between them, and he had kept his word. If anything Willow now felt closer to him than she had in all her previous hours with the vampire. Perhaps that is what prompted her next words and actions.  
  
With a deep breath, she explained the final action that had destroyed her will to live. "I left Buffy for only five minutes that night, just five to freshen-up before going back to see Oz. But it had to have been going on for a while because when I found them together they both looked so guilty. But it only lasted a second before Buffy started to defend her actions. That Oz and I weren't together anymore, that I didn't care about Oz since I'd wanted Xander for years now. She was trapped and I knew it, and it didn't matter anymore. I didn't say anything to her or Oz, just left with the both of them calling my name and begging me to wait. I bought the liquor using a fake ID I'd gotten to help me purchase magic supplies on the internet. Then I went to the park, got drunk and waited for you to show up. I knew it had to be you, just you and nobody else. I wouldn't let anyone else kill me, because you and you alone would understand why I had to die."  
  
In the dark room, with Willow hovering over his body like a conversing lover, Spike answered the only way he knew how. "You never really intended to die, did you, Willow. You knew that I was fascinated by you, you knew I'd turn you."  
  
She smiled, a real smile that spoke instantly of her healing soul. He understood now, had learned her real secret.  
  
Slowly, with hesitant pauses that spoke of remaining innocence and a hint of rejection, Willow brought her lips to Spike's and kissed him, long and slow. Then, when the need for oxygen was just starting to come to her senses, she pulled back and settled once again against him. And his arms came up about her, and pulled her closer to his chest so that half of her lay across him in the darkness. With loving nudges, he brushed his lips against her hair, snuggling her so that her face rested in the crook of his neck.  
  
"No more secrets, Willow. No more hiding. When the time is right, I'll turn you, and we'll be together forever. Dead but not dead. I'll kill you, and I'll bring you life, just like you've always wanted me to."  
  
"I love you, Spike."  
  
"I know, Willow. I love you too. Now, sleep, Pet. In the morning you're a child no longer, but a woman."  
  
Then without another word to each other, they drifted back to sleep. 


	11. Sorry, Can't Go Swimming Aunt Flow's Com...

Sorry Can't Go Swimming; Aunt Flow's Come to Visit  
  
  
  
Spike awoke to the feel of Willow moving away from him. He reached for her, catching her elbow in the half-formed shadows of early night.  
  
"LET GO!"  
  
Startled by her command, his hand dropped, and Willow bolted from the bed, ran into the bathroom, and slammed the door.  
  
For a moment Spike just laid there, completely baffled by her reaction this evening. He thought they'd managed to break ground earlier, come to some kind of understanding. Willow had poured out her heart to him, and he'd listened. In the end, before the last time they'd drifted off, he thought she'd finally done it. She'd told him why she'd called out to him that night, and now he knew without a doubt that she'd always planned for him to take her, to turn her into one of his kind. The Slayer had fucked up royal, and now Willow was his.  
  
But that didn't explain why she'd run from his touch!  
  
Following an instinct as old as his twenty-three year life had been when he'd been turned, he drew in a deep breath to sigh--and fell into full game face as a subsonic growl emanated from his chest.  
  
His golden eyes widened at the scent on the air, and without hesitation, Spike pulled the covers that had been wrapped around Willow's body, up to his nose and inhaled. Gold disappeared as the intoxicating scent caused his eyes to roll to the back of his head in erotic pleasure.  
  
He inhaled again, the sweet smell filling his nostrils and focusing his brain on only one thing--Willow. Dropping the blankets, he threw the covers off himself and stalked the room, locking all the doors and window's as he went. He examined every shadow before coming to stand in the middle of the room, his body poised for a fight, every muscle taunt and ready for any command his demon gave it to protect what was his.  
  
The door of the bathroom opening sounded a thousand time louder, and the smell of Willow came on the air in a rush only a predator could comprehend. Spike turned in her direction, noting that the sound of her gasp at his facial features only heightened his desire for her.  
  
She looked so tiny standing in the doorway, a heated flush on her cheeks where her body temperature had risen during the night. One silk covered breast peaked over the doorframe, as did one pale leg. She was the image of a temptress--and it was probably the only duality that shocked Spike's brain back into focus.  
  
By Satan himself, she didn't understand! This wasn't in any of the Watcher Journals, not a single bloody volume, because to a vampire, this was more sacred than even a turning. This was life and death, the very essence of woman that was so directly hers, that only a vampire could appreciate the glory and sacristy of what it really was.  
  
"…spike?" Even her voice was tiny.  
  
With more effort than he thought he could stand, he moved to the glass door that opened onto the glass balcony. He didn't look at her when he spoke, only unlocked the door and walked through, closing it tightly behind him. "Go to your room, Willow, bathe and dress in something completely covering. I'll come see you when you're done." He didn't wait for her reply.  
  
From the other side of the door, he could almost feel Willow's worry and fear. He'd never been so cold to her, never so withdrawn, and he knew she was suffering. But he'd explain it all, everything, once she'd washed at least some of the scent away, some of that heady mixture that was only female, that meant both life and death.  
  
* * *  
  
Willow wanted to cry.  
  
What had she done?  
  
Oh, she knew what she'd done, knew exactly what was wrong, knew the very sight of her must disgust him. She covered her eyes, drawing deep breaths as she tried to quell the tears that threatened to spill onto her cheeks.  
  
Goddess, what was she going to do?  
  
Running from the bathroom, Willow tore out of the bedroom, down the hallway, and into her room. She slammed the door behind her, running into the bathroom before stripping her nightshirt and turning the bath water on. She twirled the hot dial without consideration as she ran to the sink and opened the cabinet door. From inside, she withdrew a grocery bag containing all the girly items she's been embarrassed about the night they'd put groceries away.  
  
From within, she pulled out a single tampon. Unwrapping it, Willow followed the instructions written on the box by memory and then turned back to the tub, tears trickling down her face in shame.  
  
She'd wondered how she'd escaped nearly seven weeks without her period, but had chalked it up to stress. Now, as the tears fell unchecked, she wanted nothing more than to hide herself from Spike for the rest of her life.  
  
By the Goddess, he was a vampire! She'd seen he and his kind use scent as a means of tracking people before, knew from the Watcher Journals that the olfactory senses of Vampires were some of the most acute of all the demon world. And she'd been right next to him!  
  
Willow knew she'd been lucky, avoiding any kind of accident that could have resulted from her being unprepared for this monthly event. But how disgusting! The scent of one's own body often propelled girls to take two or more showers a day during this time of the month and Willow was often no exception. But for a vampire, the smell must have been--Willow covered her mouth in a sob.  
  
The tub was full then, and Willow shut off the water numbly. She raised her foot and sunk it in, hissing at the scalding temperature. It didn't matter though, maybe if the water was hot enough it'd strip her body of scent, of blood that was pointless to a woman who had never really wanted children in the first place.  
  
She cried for a long time, letting the tears release some of her morbid embarrassment. How could she face him again she wondered, as the tears found a new question to fall over?  
  
Willow didn't hear the door open, didn't hear the deep in draw of breath as Spike saw her leaning against the side of the Victorian tub, her shoulders shaking slightly with the effort to hold in her sadness.  
  
"Pet?"  
  
Startled, Willow looked up, her eyes puffy, as she pulled her body closer to the side of the tub, hiding herself in shame. She couldn't bear to look at him, and turned away, her eyes focusing at the floor by his feet.  
  
"No, Willow." His voice was filled with such self-loathing, but Willow didn't hear it, all she could hear was the disgust.  
  
She spoke hurriedly. "I'm sorry. I didn't--I didn't know it was…it hasn't come since I've been…here. I'm so…please, please just leave. Please." She knew he was staring at her, knew it from the burning sensation she felt in her cheeks. She wanted to crawl under the water and hide, keep herself hidden for the five days of hell she'd go through as soon as her body realized what was going on. "Please don't look at me."  
  
She wasn't at all prepared when he came and knelt by the tub. Wasn't ready when he poured the liquid soap into his hands and gently began to run it through her hair. She tried to pull away, but he just gently tugged her back by the roots until she was facing him, her green emerald eyes locked with ice blue.  
  
Spike didn't say a word, just continued to gently scrub her hair, occasionally caring a cup full of water to rewet her hair. Finally, without words he got her to turn just slightly so that her body was now at length with the tub, before he tipped her chin back and washed away the suds. She wasn't conscious of her breasts peaking tautly over the crest of the water, didn't really care as she watched him pour water over her hair, working the soap out.  
  
It should have been erotic, but it wasn't, it was horrible, watching him do this for her, and knowing all the while he knew a secret females told males only when backed into a corner. It was their secret, their private curse, and they bore it knowing it would pan out someday, that the suffering would be worth while. This wasn't a thing to be shared with males, and Willow felt her cheeks flush as his eyes found hers.  
  
Again Spike turned her wordlessly, so that now her back was to him. He applied the silky conditioner to Willow's hair, massaging it into the strands with agile fingers. She was grateful he'd turned her away, she didn't think she could stand looking at him anymore. When their eyes had met, his had flashed a golden color, and the only thing she could think of was that he was doing this for her just to make sure it got done properly-- that he was angry.  
  
When the conditioner had been worked through, Spike urged her to sink more fully into the tub before he drained half the water away, filling it with fresh, more comfortable water. Distraught, she tried to turn around, tried to send him away again, but her movements only caused him to push gently on her shoulders, locking her in place. Willow felt the tears of frustration fall down her cheeks, but they were quickly lifted away as Spike brushed them aside.  
  
Then Spike did a very strange thing, against the same portion of the tub Willow was leaning against, Spike did as well, so that the side of his head could just barely touch the side of hers if he leaned just to the right. He lit a match then, bringing the flame to a single candle until it sputtered to life; and then with a kick of his outstretched foot, he slammed the bathroom door closed. Willow jumped at the bang of door against frame, but Spike gently shushed her; and then he told his tale.  
  
There was an air of mystery to his voice, as if he were telling her some fantastical story that was so engrained in him it was like speaking about the gods. There was reverence in there, and a deep respect that resounded in every word he spoke, and by the time he was finished, Willow knew everything he said was true, no matter how it made her feel.  
  
"It's a sad fact of life that men are bloody well stupid. The worst is, they don't even know it. They prance around in their dignified clothes, poking their willies where they don't belong, all the while making sure everyone knows, they're the ones that run this whole place. Well, maybe I should have said, human men think that; vampires are a lot smarter.  
  
"What's life and death? It's a question a vampire asks himself all the time. Am I alive, or am I dead, and if this is dead, was it any different than being alive? Those kinds of deep questions plague the immortals all the time. Who are we, why are we here? That sort of thing. The smarter of the vampires figure it out right quick. We're the harbingers of death, extensions of the hand of that death. Maybe we're the fallen angles as some poets like to think, but me, I think we've got less to do with god and more to do with the cosmic balance of the whole thing. We're creatures just like everything else, with needs and desires just like humans. We live, we work, we play, and we do it all the way nature intended us to do it. Humans think they're at the top of the food chain, but we're the ones that hunt the humans, and likewise they hunt us. We're equals and we're the same. So that answers those questions.  
  
"But the one that gets us, the one that really makes the blood run cold in our veins is the question, 'What's life and death?' That one's not so easily answered, and that's the question that keeps us up during the day, wondering and worrying. It's a hard question to answer, but that doesn't mean we don't have one."  
  
Spike paused, and Willow wondered briefly at what was to come.  
  
"A long time ago, vampires, the old kind, sat down to really think about this question. What was life and what was death? We seemed like death, we brought it, we carried it in the fangs we used to kill with, in the way we toyed with our pray to heighten our pleasure. We killed for necessity and we killed for sport; but those things were done by humans as well. So if we weren't death then were we life? Was being a vampire the actual source of life, of immortality? Humans died if not turned, they withered away like the fruit on the vine, but being a vampire was to pick the fruit, to make it last forever. But we became like dust if killed, so how could we truly be called immortal?  
  
"In the end, it was a wise female vampire that said we were the balance, neither living nor dead. And to justify this claim she brought in a female human." Spike stopped suddenly, savoring the memory as it coursed through him. Even Willow understood that this was a very important story for vampires.  
  
Spike confirmed it. "Vampires don't share this story with anyone, Willow. It's as good as our bible for lack of a better term. It's the one thing vampires hold sacred, more than the Sire/Childe bond, more than the blood that ties us to clans. We only share the story with those we plan to make into a Childe, a vampire with the strength of twenty fledglings, both in muscle and will to survive.  
  
"Understand, that after last night I will make you my Childe, Willow, the strongest I've ever made in fact. You'll be my Queen, my mate--and my every desire will come to rest with you. I can't tell you how I know you're the one, Pet. Angelus once told me I'd know the one I'd give the gift to when I met him or her, but I never really believed him." Spike paused. "How could I believe him when he said that's why he made me?"  
  
It was a sad, heart wrenched confession from the vampire by her side, and without meaning too, Willow turned over in the water and wrapped her arms about his neck from behind, nuzzling her lips into his hair and kissing his temple.  
  
For a long moment, Spike just allowed the contact, soaking it in. Finally, he lifted one of her hands from his chest and kissed the inside of her wrist. When he pulled it away from his lips he held it, examining the white unmarred flesh.  
  
"When I'm finished with this story, Willow, I'm going to drink from you again. It'll be the only way for me--but I'll explain in a moment." And he kissed her wrist again before gently pushing it back towards her. She pulled her arms back into the water and returned her body to its original position. She never said a single word against becoming his Childe.  
  
"This vampire was a Queen. Watcher Journals don't talk about Queens because vampires don't talk about Queens. Humans are foolishly ruled by men; but vampires are a matriarchal society. Women rule all the old clans, as they should. The transformation does something to them, makes them stronger and wiser than their male counterparts. The original vampire was a woman, some say the Slayer's twin sister who was possessed by a demon during some kind of Neanderthal ritual. Some say she still lives, hidden away, sleeping, waiting for the time to rise.  
  
"Female vampires preserve the species. Males are a lot like humans, brash and filled with the need to prove themselves better than the rest. They wage war against each other, kill one another, for little more than the notion that they can. But the females, those are the ones to beat. They're smart, too smart, I sometimes think. They plan with the devious nature of true killers. Men were born to be human, to kill without cause and with blunt objects; but women, graceful and stealthy, they were born for the hunt. They kill only when provoked, otherwise, living with the land, with their surroundings. They blend with the ease of knowing they belong there as much as the rest. And as humans they had the one secret that even males--through their constant battles--will never possess--they had the ability to bring forth life from their very bodies."  
  
Willow cringed, knowing before this started it had something to do with this female activity, but enthralled none the less by the way Spike was talking about it. She kept her comments to herself, listening intently.  
  
"I think I know what you're thinking, Luv, and you can stop right there. I'm not planning on leaving you alone, or avoiding you, or locking you in the basement until the bleeding stops. I should have explained better when I sent you away…but in all honesty, I didn't think I could control myself."  
  
Stunned by his frankness and his admission, Willow turned around again, staring at the back of Spike's blond head. "Control himself," what did he mean by that?  
  
Spike didn't answer Willow's silent question, just continued the story. "This human female the Queen brought to the council was young, perhaps fourteen or so. Back then she wasn't so young though, a good marrying age, even better for birthing. The Queen had bought the girl from her family for a few gold pieces, quite a bit of money I'm told.  
  
"It was during the girls monthly--period, in the States, right?" She nodded and the feel of her hair against his must have supplied his answer because he continued. "They say it was like nothing anyone had ever seen before. A council consists of at least ten vampires, all leaders of clans, and at this time, in this place, the leaders happened to be mostly male; seven to four I'm told, were the odds that night. It's said the males fell into full game face immediately, smelling the air like rabid dogs. In animals, menstruation's a sign of fertility, in humans too, only it's an indication that the last month was unsuccessful, and some bloke better stake his claim fast. But these males, the cream of the crop you might say, fell all over themselves to get at this one female girl.  
  
"Lucky for the little chit, the Queens stopped them, held them back long enough for them to get their senses about them. When they'd settled the bloodlust, the poor creature was huddled against the Queen who'd brought her, frightened out of her mind. The Queen pointed to the girl and said, 'This is the human girl, who's body brings both life and death. The evidence of this is the blood that flows between her legs. It is the thing of life to all humans, and yet it symbolizes death as it leaves her body. Humans find her weak and disgusting, shun her from her community during what they see as a symbol of their own mortality. But I say to you this, to us, to vampires, she is death only when her body is taken by child, and life only when there is no child to be had.' And then to prove her point, she drank from the child, not from the pulse of her neck, but from the cavity of her body that supplied freely without harm. Then she said to them, that the blood of life and death is purer that the most crystal water, warmer than the fires of an inferno; that this blood, and this alone could sustain a vampire for a month without further feeding. But the others didn't believe her--it's a pretty bold claim to a vampire that usually has to feed every other night or so. The very idea of feeding only once a month would be like a miracle. Vampires got killed on the hunt, from lucky humans to the Slayer. If what the Queen was saying was true, then a vampire could get himself a willing woman and pursue things other than feeding the demon. So the council made her prove it. For twenty- eight days the council sat in the same small cave. Every few nights, some would leave the cave to hunt while the others watched the Queen and her human girl. Not once did the Queen feed from the girl, and not once did she leave to feed in the night. For a month this continued, and still the Queen did not feed, nor show any signs of needing too. Finally, on the twenty-eighth day, the human girl began her cycle again, and it was from this the Queen indulged. From that moment on, vampires learned that human females were only a source of life, life to humans and life to vampires.  
  
"On the Hellmouth, more females die than males, because only fledglings and fools walk the Hellmouth. The old vampires, the ancient ones that make me, in human standards, only a few days old, they know the value of a female life, that in her body rests the ability to sustain a vampire for forty years if kept right. So they hunt men for sport and sport alone, caring for a small group of women they provide for and in exchange visit monthly to drive off the hunger."  
  
He turned then, and their eyes met, Willow's large with a mixture of horror and appall, and his with a desperate need to make her understand. "Think of it like this, Luv, the human world views this as a sign that you've failed, that you've managed to go one more month without fulfilling your life's mission; on the other hand, to a vampire, you're the real source of life only if you bear no children."  
  
At her still mixed look Spike sighed, running his hand over his face, and smelling her scent between his fingers. He groaned, closing his eyes against the fragrance of her that was beyond the smell of even the most advanced human. It was the scent of human chemicals on the air, of the duality of life and death. He could feel his face shifting, feel his need for her almost overwhelming, but he staved it off, forcing himself to remember that she was still very much in need of him to stay in control.  
  
When he opened his eyes, they were gold rimmed. "Willow, right now, your body is the most sexy, enticing, erotic thing I can think of. You're scent fills the room, and while you can't smell it, it's like the most alluring perfume. To a vampire--to me, I want nothing more than to take you, alternate between feeding from you, and making love to you until the very thought of leaving me drove you closer to me. I want you right now, more than I've wanted any woman, human or vampire, ever in my entire life. You're the one I'll make into my Childe, my mate, and it's taking all my self-control not to just turn you now and make you mine. That's how powerful this is, how strong my desire for you is. It's almost more than one can stand, more than I want to stand. It feels like I need you just to live, just to survive a few more seconds. You don't disgust me, Willow--no Luvie, the very scent of you drives me mad with desire for you." And to punctuate that point, he wrapped his hand into Willow's slippery hair, and crushed her mouth to his in a bruising kiss that brought every truth he'd told home.  
  
Her whole life, this cycle had been considered a let down, as if she'd done something wrong by being cursed with it. It was painful and restricting, seeming to cut her off from the rest of the world. But here she was, in Spike's crushing grip, tasting for herself his need for her in this state of removal. As his hand kneaded the flesh at the back of her neck, Willow knew that to Spike she was nearly divine. In this state, her body was like a fountain of life for him, and her confidence soared at that thought, that she could give something back to him.  
  
She eased away from him, feeling him moan at the loss of contact. But years of teaching could not be completely erased in a span of minutes, and Willow turned to look down at her breasts as she spoke.  
  
"I-I can't say the idea doesn't gross me out--a lot--but I think I understand. Intellectually…menstrual fluids are rich in all kinds of things needed to support a growing human life. I guess, if vampires use blood for nutrients, then…then that would be the kind of blood they'd want." Spike's index finger found it's way under her chin then, and with a bit of gentle pressure he made her look at him.  
  
"You think too much, have I told you that?" She shook her head. "Well I should have. It doesn't matter why it is, or what makes it so, all that matters is that it is."  
  
Suddenly a question that had been gnawing at the back of her mind pushed out from between her lips. "But if that's true, if your story's true, then why do so many vampires kill at all? Why don't they just…just get a…willing girl to…oh, you know!" She pulled her chin away from his fingers as the blush stole over her cheeks again.  
  
Spike only chuckled before recapturing her chin and bringing her up for another kiss, this one soft and alluring. "Like I said, it's a sacred story to vampires, and one definitely not told to fledglings. I first heard the story from Angelus, who heard it from the Master himself. Now that bloke was old, but not nearly as old as some. The old vampires are in Europe and the surround; they're the ones that follow the old ways, blend into human civilization so seamlessly that only another Vampire can tell them apart from the rest. It's the old ones that use the story to their advantage, and they've come up with a few tricks to make it all the more easier.  
  
"Vampire saliva is a very strange thing. It has one very distinct property; it thins the blood. You can't really see them with your naked eye, but our fangs inject saliva into our victims. This cute little trick that the masters use, is they bite their females on a certain set of nerves along their lower spinal column, here lean forward and I'll show you." Willow did without hesitation, and Spike breathed easier knowing she was taking this so well. "Anyway, a Master will bite you there and it's like getting the whole week long process over in a single night. Most of the females think this is a pretty good deal, I'm told. They feed their benefactor for one night and they spend his money for the other twenty- seven. The drawback is it's pretty painful, all that cramping and such, I assume you know what I mean." She nodded. "Well, that was pretty much taken care of when they introduced opium to the scene. Masters give the chits opium and the girls lay there for a night long high that's less embarrassing I guess than the alternative. Though, to a vampire, it's so strange to think of feeding this was as vulgar and not completely erotic." He pulled her forward again, this time kissing his way to the hollow of her throat. "Not embarrassing at all."  
  
Easily aroused during her period anyway, Willow was a tingle with conflicting emotions of need and flight. The way he was touching her, tasting her flesh with his tongue, she couldn't hold back the moans, and that only seemed to fuel him forward. She wasn't delusional, she wanted him, had for a long time now. Willow knew she'd be with him for longer than one lifetime, she'd made that decision on a very bleak night back in Sunnydale. If these were the circumstances she was supposed to lose her virginity under then so be it, she was more than willing. Her dripping hands came out of the water to encircle his neck and instinctively, Spike pulled her half out of the tub and against his chest.  
  
The kisses were hungry and demanding, and for the first time, Willow opened her mouth to receive him. Tongues played together in a litany of attack and surrender. She rubbed her breasts against him, desperate for the contact until his hands found her and molded against her flesh. Willow sighed loudly as his mouth moved down the column of her neck, until his tongue was licking at her collar bone and then lower, to the parts of her that stretched taunt for him to taste.  
  
Her breath caught as the ridges of his demon rubbed against her breasts, but she didn't care. This was a part of him as much as the mask he wore for her as a human. He was a monster that could love, and Willow was prepared to love him no matter which face he chose to wear.  
  
Her hands held him close to her heart, forcing his mouth where she needed him the most, and he obliged, following her every silent instruction to bring her satisfaction.  
  
And then suddenly, Spike pulled away, his hands dropping away from her body as he forced himself to stand and move across the room, to lean against the counter on the far wall.  
  
For her part, Willow as once again stunned. Had she done something? Did she do something wrong? She hadn't had much experience in this; she and Oz had always been a little too self-conscious. But it hadn't felt wrong, it'd felt right, so very, very right.  
  
Leaning back into the rapidly cooling water, Willow watched the man's back because she could not see his reflection in the mirror. Spike's shoulders were tense, his whole body was tense, and Willow had a pretty good idea why. His head was bent, but she could tell he was watching her watch him, and that slightly unnerved her. She decided to speak first.  
  
"I-I know I didn't do anything wrong, but, would you just say it so I know for sure."  
  
She could almost see him smile. "You didn't do anything wrong, Willow Luv, I'm the bastard in this situation. The last thing you need is for me to shag you three ways to Sunday." Her giggle interrupted him.  
  
Willow watched him turn then, gaze back at her with shock as her giggles turned to full out laughs. When she'd gotten herself under control, she looked up at him and smiled. "I think that might be the only thing I need right now. You shouldn't tease a girl like that, it could get you into trouble someday." It was the complete reversal of sex roles that had kept more than one girl safe from date rape over the years, this time it only served in making Spike flash his notorious evil grin.  
  
But it was only a flash, and then it was gone, replaced by a look that was near self-loathing. "It's a lot to take in all at once Pet, and I don't doubt that you find it all a little…shall we say unappetizing. Besides, the act of the feed is very strong, usually only Masters can resist the need to change a female during the act, a mind goes crazy during the whole thing, a bloodlust unlike any other."  
  
Willow nodded. "It is, well, all kinds of ick for me, but it's obviously a good thing for vampires, and well, you're a vampire, so it's a good thing for you right?" Spike hesitantly nodded. "Well, I want to do a good thing for you. You've done so much for me, and I know as time goes on you'll do a lot more for me too. If-if this is something I can give you, something I can give you back for everyth--"  
  
She wasn't ready for how fast he moved, wasn't prepared for the two fingers that were suddenly blocking her lips from moving. His eyes were slightly pained when she looked. "You don't owe me anything, Willow. Don't ever think that again. I told you once before, you belong to me, and I take care of what's mine. You are mine. I will take care of you, without obligation, or requirements in kind. Please, Willow, for me, don't think that thought again."  
  
She could only nod as he pulled his hand back and stood. "I'll lay out some clothes for you to wear. For both our sakes, the easiest thing is if you do just a few things. First, bath at least twice a day, it'll make it easier for me to be close to you without trying to shag you. Second, wear thick clothes, pants would be better. I'm fighting your scent now, and stop looking like it's something to be ashamed of! It's not as if you smell bad, you smell like a chit in need of a really good shag and it's driving me insane! Help a bloke out, would you Luv? Be merciful?"  
  
And she nodded, forcing herself not to be self-conscious about the pheromones her body was giving off that he could sense.  
  
Then Spike was kneeling at the lip again, this time holding his hand out to her, and suddenly, Willow knew what he was asking for. Without hesitating, she gave him her wrist and then leaned forward, making it easier for him to draw the delicate bit of flesh and bone forward.  
  
He skipped her wrist for a moment as he bent to bring their lips together in the most erotic kiss she'd ever received. "You need time to adjust, and so do I, but when the time is right my love, and it will be right soon, I will claim you as no man could ever claim you, and you will be mine for eternity."  
  
She moaned at his words. Silently he pulled back, before settling her back once again against the side of the tub closest to him. With light kisses, Spike moved from her shoulder, down past her elbow and along her forearm. She moaned again at his gentleness, and then felt a rush of near orgasm as he bit gently into her wrist. There was more pleasure in that act than any other that had come to pass in Willow's short life. Every nerve ending was alive with the feeling of her flesh slowly tearing under the puncturing bite. Her breath came in desperate gasps of air, and she couldn't help but cry out in absolute wanton desire as he softly began a slight suction. Her world focused on him, and she knew he was her world now, her present as much as her future.  
  
Suddenly, one of his hands stole into the water, and his cool fingers quickly found her center. It was the briefest touch, the slightest caress exactly where she needed it, neither intrusive, nor unwanted, and with it came the released of her sudden passion. She cried out his name, calling it over and over as wave after wave of pure bliss fell across her warm body.  
  
She heard him growl a moment later as he released her wrist, and she sighed sadly when his stroking fingers left her as well. Gently, Spike maneuvered her wrist back into the water, and kissed a path from her shoulder to her neck and then invaded her parted lips.  
  
When he pulled back, Willow's eyes were heavy with spent passion. His voice was gentle as he caressed her face. "I will never, ever have enough of you, not even after a thousand lifetimes." He kissed her again, before standing. "Finish. I'll be in the room to help you get dressed. And Willow?" She looked up at him. "It may be sooner than either one of us thought."  
  
As the door closed, Willow sank back into the water and shivered with delight. 


	12. The Garden of Eden

The Garden of Eden  
  
Willow awoke the next day in their room. She wasn't quite sure when it had become "their" room, but it was now. She sat up, looking around the empty room, trying to find Spike, but he wasn't there. She knew the night before had been hard for him. He'd insisted that she stay the night with him, and though she protested, in the end she curled gratefully around his body.  
  
Willow couldn't believe what had happened yesterday, it didn't quite feel real. She was no stranger to self-fulfillment--no teenage girl was-- but she'd never had a partner to help, never really ever imagined anyone would want too. But Spike had, he'd shown her something so beyond her scope that she found herself falling back into bouts of nostalgia to think about the feel of his lips against her writs, or his fingers against her--  
  
Where was, Spike?  
  
Throwing off the covers, Willow hunched over as a flutter of cramps found their way into her back. She stretched, hoping that would help, but knowing in reality that it was pointless. Glancing at the clock, Willow saw that it was far too early for Spike to be awake, only about three in the afternoon.  
  
Worried, but determined not to show it if possible, Willow went to the bathroom to take a quick shower. She was trying her best to respect Spike's wishes, and anything she could do to help was something she absolutely had to do. She'd watched him suffer last night as they sat in the library together. Every now and then, his game face would slip and then he'd be off and into the back part of the library, gone for ten to fifteen minutes before returning. She'd still been shy about the whole thing, asking him softly if he wanted her to try showering again. He knew then what he was doing to her, and he did indeed send her off for a shower, but met her in the bedroom for an early day's sleep.  
  
She remembered all this as she dried off, going back into the bedroom to see if Spike had returned, he hadn't. Resigned to finding him, Willow went to the closet and withdrew another one of Spike's silk shirts, closing her eyes in remembered passion as the fabric caressed her skin, transfixed by the smell of his cologne around the collar.  
  
With bare feet, Willow left the bedroom and walked silently down the long hallway, lit only occasionally by gas scones. She stopped before the top of the stairs to admire a painting of an old looking stained glass window. It took her a moment to justify a painting instead of the real thing--no matter how beautiful it would have been, to a vampire it was one more source of death.  
  
She glided down the stairs, the soles of her feet sinking deeply into the plush carpet.  
  
Willow began with the library, but after finding no sign of Spike, tried his study before moving down the final flight of stairs. In the entranceway, she tried to figure out where to begin. She could search the kitchens, but Spike would never expect her to be up this early, so breakfast wouldn't be on his mind. The ballroom was a likely choice, but something seemed strange about that, as if it just wasn't a place for him to go. Spike would have wanted to surround himself with something, to take comfort in feeling completely encased without really being trapped.  
  
Then suddenly, she knew where he was.  
  
Her ankle cracked on the last step, sounding an echo throughout the marble entranceway. She resisted a giggle, and instead resumed her silent walk down the hallway and to the left.  
  
Steam rose and collected on the glass walls of the built in conservatory. Through the glass, Willow could see the dozens of plant varieties that grew in the greenhouse. Absently, she noted that the set of mirrors that drew sunlight from outside were down, leaving the room in darkness. Without stopping to consider the flowers any further, Willow opened the door and stepped inside.  
  
The air was thick with humidity, and her skin felt damp and muggy against the silk shirt, but the heat was good for her back, and she stretched languidly, her hands raising above her head in relief.  
  
A thin stone path cut between the plant life, and Willow knew a small pond containing goldfish was in the center were a small fountain stood. She walked that way, mindful of the stones beneath her naked feet. A few branches of a broad leafed plant hung in her way across the path, and Willow gently pushed them aside to reveal the fountain, and the hunched form of Spike.  
  
He was seated on one of the benches, his back hunched over his knees as his face rested in the palms of his hands. He was dressed in a black silk shirt and a pair of tan pants that were in a style a century old; but his feet were bare, and his hair looked tousled from his restless night's sleep. He looked innocent like that, nothing like the killer she knew him to be, and she knew why, knew he was fighting his demon even now, struggling with the feel and scent of her on the very air she stood in.  
  
Silently she cursed herself, how could she have come here, it was likely the only place that wasn't permeated with this scent that drove male vampires insane. Spike was probably looking for a few minutes peace, and here she was, disrupting even this solitude.  
  
Those thoughts lasted for about ten seconds. In their wake was a series of thoughts so much more powerful than the last. She belonged here! She belonged next to him, with him, no matter what state her body was in. He had no right to push her away, to try and hide from her. This was not his burden to bear, it was theirs, together, and more than that, it was a burden neither had to bear.  
  
Spike had wanted to spare her modesty, to give her time to adjust to the things that had happened to her and the things she'd learned. Yes she'd tried to have Spike kill her, yes she'd tried to hurt herself to stop the pain, yes she'd done it twice, yes she'd revealed a secret that even now haunted her memory; but she was not weak, not anymore. His love and kindness had made her stronger. His desire for her had strengthened her will to live, for as long as he let her, until Spike joined them together in eternity. She knew the whole of her life had been bringing her to this point, this very moment; and she knew, exactly, what she wanted.  
  
Unconsciously, her shoulders squared, her back strengthening, as she walked slowly towards the hunched figure on the bench. Spike didn't look up as she approached, and it was with a mental slap on the forehead and a congratulatory slap on the back that she realized she was wearing only the black shirt, and not a damn thing else.  
  
Willow could easily see him struggling to control himself. His body was tense, his muscles shaking slightly from the effort to maintain control. Spike had told her last night that the second day was always the worst, the third just slightly better. To think of him as suffering even more than he had yesterday, it was more than Willow was willing to stand.  
  
Her delicate fingers came up to just barely touch the outside of his hand, and his face shot up instantly, his eyes golden in the misty light.  
  
"I woke up and you weren't there. What happened?" She watched him struggle with the demon, saw the ridges of his face flicker across his features, his eyes dilating as she moved her fingers to touch firmly to his cheek.  
  
He tried to turn away from her, tried to hide the struggle raging inside his body; Willow only opened her palm to lay against his cheek, keeping him in place. "What happened?"  
  
A smile that could only be considered painful fell across Spike's face, and Willow could see the beads of sweat from his struggles forming on his brow. "Nothing, Pet. Everything's fine. W-why don't you run upstairs and get ready for the day." He gulped, she saw the apple of his throat move in response to his suffering. "You know, grab a shower and throw some…more clothes on." He was failing and he knew it, worse, he knew she knew it as well.  
  
Spike was hurting, he was in pain, and so was she; this had to stop now.  
  
Her hands came up to cradle his face, her fingers brushing against his cheekbones, the pads of her thumbs caressing his eyelids. Slowly, softly, she worked her hands over his face, smoothing back his hair, touching him while he was too enthralled to protest.  
  
Enthralled he was. Spikes eyes were already golden, but a dull look of distance was in them, and it took Willow a moment to realize it was an almost drug like pleasure.  
  
Empowered by her own dedication, and the sudden look in Spike's eyes, Willow took a step forward, felt Spike spread his knees to accommodate her legs, felt his firm fingers digging almost instantly into her hips.  
  
As she looked into his eyes, she could see the war behind the golden spheres. Spike was fighting to remain in control. She had no desire for him to ever lose control, in fact the very idea frightened her. Willow knew Spike would have to be thinking, but now was still the time to get him off balance.  
  
Bending at the knees, Willow pushed her body forward until the peaks of her breasts were pushed forcefully against Spike, the force seeming to push him backwards on the bench. Her mouth hovered only inches from his lips as she spoke. "I just took a shower not five minutes ago. This thing you're trying to do, Spike, it isn't going to work, and I don't want it to. I am yours, I have been since the moment you saw me in that park. I'm not doing this because I owe you anything; it's your job to take care of me, you promised me you would. But that goes both ways, Spike. This is something I can do for you, let me do this for you, for us. I can't stand to see you like this." Then with as much speed and force as she could, Willow kissed him, crushing her mouth to his in an act that could only be considered brutal and demanding.  
  
It was enough. With a growl so loud it rumbled past Willow's own chest pressed against Spike's, the vampire's grip about her hips shifted and he was slamming her body against his, pulling her into his body as far as physicality would allow. His grip was almost punishing, hurting her for making him want her so much, for making him do this, but she tempered it with the soft caresses of her hands against his back, along the ridges of his face. His hands wound into her hair, forcing her head back with a strong tug that hurt far worse than she let on. Fangs grazed her neck but did not puncture, while his skilled tongue soothed the angry scratches left behind.  
  
The heady mixture of pain and pleasure had Willow panting, and her hands became useless except as anchors to the tense biceps of her captor and soon to be lover. Spike's growls became lower, the sound more of a vibration than an actual tone. His mouth found her breast, and Willow moaned loudly at his skill. A sharp sting caught her attention, and she cried out as his fangs punctured her nipple, the warm feeling of pooling blood causing Willow's world to dim for a moment.  
  
And then, it was as if she were his mother, only in a near reverse. Spike's arms flashed under her legs, and before she knew what was happening she was laying across his lap, his hand supporting her as his head bent over to suckle from her dripping breast. And the sensation, the erotic, sensual, sensation of a full grown man doing this to her, drawing life from her in this way, had her crying out as the beautiful tension filled her lower body, making her arch into his mouth.  
  
With every pull on her breast, with every caress of his tongue to stimulate the blood to flow, Willow felt the crest of absolute fulfillment rise in her, until she was begging with body and voice for release, calling his name over and over in some plea for mercy. She wanted him, needed him, there was no denying it, no point in pushing it aside for later, it was now, the present, this very moment; and Spike obliged.  
  
Again his cool fingers--warmer now for the blood he'd taken from her-- stole under the tails of her borrowed silk. With skilled ease he found what she needed, and with one final pull on her breast, and a firm caress of his fingers, she was complete. She screamed, the sound vibrating throughout the glass room, shaking the windows and disturbing the plant life. The sound was soul deep and powerful, filled with satisfaction that comes only from the deepest fulfillment. Exhausted tears drifted slowly from her eyes as Spike's mouth continued its assault, and his fingers returned to haunt her just as she thought her body had achieved blissful peace.  
  
Trembling against him, Willow used all her remaining strength to wrap her arms about his neck, to pull him even more firmly against her so that this contact, this sweet, sweet torture would not end. Her fingers wound idly into his short hair, until Spike's fingers made her forget what they'd been doing.  
  
How long this continued, Willow did not know. She was sated and well loved, feeling warm and languid now as Spike's fingers were less of an instrument to her insanity and more a comfort which she spread her knees wide to welcome. His mouth continued to work her body, and she sighed at this feeling, this blissful feeling of completeness with a vampire, with a man.  
  
Eventually, she knew things had to stop, and it was with her deepest regret that she spoke softly to him, her fingers working lightly at the back of his neck. "Spike, oh Spike, you have to stop now. There's more but you have to stop this now."  
  
Slowly, over the course of nearly ten minutes, Spike worked his way back to her, fighting his demon for control as he lifted his head, his tongue licking the slight tinge of blood off his lips. Willow didn't look down at herself. Spike had never even removed her shirt and she knew if she looked the shock of her blood soaked chest might manage to send her into a light panic.  
  
Instead she focused on Spike's eyes, and when the look of near desperate guilt came into them, she spoke again. "I'm ready to finish this, and I want you to stop feeling guilty right now. I knew what I was doing, knew that something like this would happen. I won't say that I'm not scared, I won't lie to you, but you need this, we need this. I'm no expert on vampire bonds, but I understand how powerful blood is to you, I accept that about you, and I accept that about my future self as well. I trust you to stay in control now, as a Master, as my future mate, to keep from turning me. I trust you to keep all your promises to me. I love you, and I want to give this gift to you." Leaning forward, Willow kissed him, her tongue tasting her own blood on his lips--the taste did not disgust her as it once might have.  
  
Spike was breathing hard, forcing air into long dead lungs out of some deeply engrained directive. "Willow…you don't know what you're asking."  
  
Suddenly, firm hands wrapped about Spike's face, forcing him to look into the dilated ones of his desire. "I know exactly what I'm asking, and you know exactly what I'm giving. If you can't do it for yourself, then do it for me, do it because I can't stand to see you like this." And she kissed him again, throwing all of her desperation into the touch of her lips.  
  
It was the last bit of resistance Spike had left. On legs coursing with the power of virgin blood, Spike stood and lifted Willow with him, barely taking his eyes from hers as he navigated his way out of the conservatory and up the wide stairs to the second floor.  
  
He swept them both into his study by the library, placing Willow on top of the desk and kissing her passionately, before pulling away and nearly ripping a painting from the wall. Behind the frame stood a wall safe, and with only a few turns, Spike had it opened. His fingers were nibble, and in seconds he had what he needed tucked into his shirt pocket before going back to the table to collect Willow.  
  
She kissed the column of his neck on the way up the last stairs, adding her own marks in the form of light bruises that in some way made her feel as if he now belonged completely to her. She never saw him shut off the gas to the lights, never even noticed when they fell into complete darkness. All that mattered, all she needed was here in her arms, the rest of the world could disappear and she'd never know nor care.  
  
Once in the master bedroom, Spike shut and locked the door. He walked to the bathroom door and set her on her feet. His instructions were crystal clear. "Take it out and get rid of the shirt." Nearly vibrating with need, Willow moved to the toilet and pulled haphazardly on the string before flushing and ripping the shirt off, tearing the fabric in her haste.  
  
And then she was back, his arms wrapping around her again to lift her into the air. He moved to the bed, crawling on his knees across it until he could place her in the middle of its wide expanse.  
  
She fought every instinct she had not to cover her body, not to shake with fear instead of need. But ever the vigilant lover, Spike noticed, and calmed himself down to caress her body softly in preparation. When he spoke it was to ease her fears.  
  
"In a few moment's I'm going to take your arm and tie a tourniquet around it, here. I'll tap the inside of your elbow to raise a vein. I told you, this process is considered painful, but a heavy dose of morphine should take care of most of it. Once the drugs take, I'll roll you to your side and then puncture a set of nerves at your lower back where I showed you last night. It'll take a little while, but you'll know when it starts working. Then I'll drink from you, and I swear it to you, my Red Queen, you will only feel pleasure." Leaning forward he kissed her soundly, caressing her stomach as the chill of fear crept into her bones. "I love you, Willow."  
  
"I-I love you too, Spike."  
  
The tourniquet was placed then, and Willow watched in fascination as Spike plunged the needle into the stopper, extracting an exact amount of clear liquid.  
  
"H-how do you know how much to give me?"  
  
He smiled, a slow soft smile. "Angelus used to be an addict, completely dependent on the stuff during the last two decades of the nineteenth century. He had a bitch of a time kicking it." He licked the inside of her elbow before gently and painlessly inserting the needle and delivering the drug.  
  
Willow had never in her life done drugs before and she said as much. Spike chuckled as he slipped the needle from her arm and released the tourniquet. "You're not missing much. Angelus was a bigger poof than he was as Angel when he was high. Used to wear the dumbest things you've ever seen; put on one of Dru's corsets once and walked around the house scaring the servants."  
  
"How di-did he kick the habit?" She asked, her limbs still shaking.  
  
Spike hesitated, his eyes going dark for a moment. "I locked him in the cellar for two months. For two months he fed from me and me alone, and for two months he took out his rage on me. It was alright though, worth it in the end to have him back." Suddenly Spike's lips closed, as if he'd said more than he wanted to ever say again. "Not important, Luv. Tell me when the world goes a little topsy-turvy on you."  
  
She could tell he was more in control. His eyes had remained a clear blue since she'd returned from the bathroom, and she thought her blood already in his veins must have helped with that at least a little.  
  
Willow didn't notice the first hit of the drug to her system, but Spike knew it from her next statement.  
  
"I'm scared."  
  
Sitting back, Spike brushed a few stray hairs from Willow's check. "It's alright to be scared, it's a scary thing. I doubt you'll feel so scared in a few minutes, but until then, just try to relax. I love you. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, both inside and out." He lifted her hand, kissing her palm until she sighed, her eyes rolling slightly up as the drug now slammed home to her system.  
  
He allowed her to bask in the high for a moment, knowing that with the pain she'd be only slightly buzzed. He'd purposefully given her a bit too much, but she'd be fine in the morning.  
  
Spike couldn't express in words what this gift meant to him. It was an act of trust so final from Willow, that he knew that after this there would be no more retreats to childhood. Come tomorrow night, she'd be completely woman, his woman, and he couldn't prevent the growl of possessiveness he gave off at the thought.  
  
He was startled a bit when she giggled. "You're all, grrrrrr! You're so cute when you do that." Willow giggled again.  
  
Leaning down, Spike kissed her softly. "Ok, Willow, I want you to roll to your side now, you'll be alright, I'll make sure you don't roll off the bed." She giggled again, but rolled to her left as he gently positioned her to curve the lower part of her back. "Now hold really, still, Luvie. This is going to hurt, but I want you to breath through it, I promise I'll make it up to you."  
  
"OK, Spikey!"  
  
Cringing at the nickname, but entrance with her playful behavior, Spike fell into game face and allowed his demon to assume control. With minimal difficulty he found the small bundle of nerves by her bottom three vertebra. The ancient Chinese long knew of a similar trick using acupuncture, this was only slightly more barbaric.  
  
Not stopping to warn her further, he struck. Lightening fast, his left fang punctured the ridge of her spin and he listened in a grip of sympathy, to the sound of Willow crying out in pain. His right hand held her hips still while his left kept her from scooting away while his own fluids pumped into her system.  
  
When the sound of Willow's tears were more than he could stand, he withdrew, slicing his tongue to stop the blood, then licking it way to disinfect.  
  
"There now, Luvie. You were so brave. I'm so proud of you." She sniffled as he gently rolled her onto her back. "I'm so sorry I had to hurt you, Willow, but I promise, in just a minute I'll make you forget all about it, I promise. Don't I keep all my promises?" He watched her nod tearfully. "Good girl. That's my girl," and he gently brushed the tears aside.  
  
He watched her silently then, saw her eyes drift in the throws of a first time fix. She moaned soundlessly, a mixture of fear and the still desperate hum of her body's need for his. Gloriously naked before him, Spike had the first real opportunity to examine his prize with the critical eye of a painter.  
  
Long straight hair the color of first drawn blood fanned out around a pixyish face with wide green eyes. Her lips were kissable, neither overly full nor too thin. The column of her neck was long and lean, meeting with visible collar bones that only enhanced the beauty of her perfectly shaped pert breasts. Her stomach was nearly flat, and on her back, she seemed even more thin than usual. Wide hips completed an hourglass figure that was at once alluring to a man born in the eighteenth century. Long thin legs tapered to delicate feet that seemed almost a little too small to support her five foot five inch figure. In a word, Willow was perfect.  
  
But there was the briefest in draw of breath, and Spike watched the first signs of discomfort flitter across Willow's features. Instantly he bent to comfort her. "Everything's fine, Luvie. You're doing wonderfully. Turn your head now, that's it. I want you watch the fire for a little while. Just focus on it like you told me you do when you pray to the Goddess. Keep your eyes focused right there, Willow. Your hands, your arms, legs, they can do whatever you want, whatever they need to, but I want you to keep your eyes right there. Will you do that for me, Willow? Will you look right there for me?"  
  
From this angle above her, he could see the firelight dancing in the green depths of her eyes. Hesitantly, she nodded her head, the discomfort clearing some of the Morphine haze. One frightened hand reached for his blindly, and he took it, squeezing before laying it to rest across her stomach.  
  
"If you ever want me to stop, Willow, just say, 'stop', and I will, I promise you. I'm going to take care of you. I love you…so much."  
  
"I love you too, Spike, I love you too."  
  
Doing his best not to startle her, Spike slid his right hand from the mattress onto her left hip and across her stomach to her right side. With both hands on her hips, he moved, careful to go slowly so that she could sense his movements before he arrived. She jumped as he set his right knee on top of her two locked one, his need understood from the slight pressure he placed there. He watched her body quake once before her knees slowly unlocked, and with gentle insistence, he put his own knee between hers.  
  
His blood warmed hands glided down over Willow's hips, over her thighs before gently cupping her knees, slowly pulling them further apart as she continued to quake, her breathing desperate.  
  
He wanted to sooth her, to comfort the fear she was feeling at her first true intimate act, but the separation of her legs brought the overwhelming scent of blood to him, and it was all he could do to keep from ravaging her.  
  
Mindful of his own instantaneous erection, Spike lowered his body closer to the bed, so that his hands were once again resting on Willow's hips. With a gentle nudge and a lifting from her seat, she was open to him, the natural curve of her body acting like a waiting saucer, refilling with every contraction of her body.  
  
It was more than he could stand. His face shifted completely, his demon demanding he take her now, make her his in every way a vampire could claim a female. It was a call of his nature, and one he could not resist. With a slow and savoring swipe, he tasted the essence of his Queen and did not stop until there was nothing more to take. 


	13. The Master Claimed the Queen of HeartsAn...

Chapter 13:  
  
The Master Claimed the Queen of Hearts…And She Liked It!  
  
  
  
The warm feeling of water surrounding her body woke Willow up with a start. Her eyes struggled between being heavy with sleep, and the need to become alert. Realizing she was surrounded by water, Willow began to struggle, overcome with the sensation.  
  
"Shhh, Luv, it's alright, just a bath to clean up." Shivers overcame her body as Spike spoke from behind her, directly into her ear, his lips brushing against her lobe.  
  
Closing her eyes, she relaxed into Spike's embrace. She felt arms she hadn't noticed wrap about her waist, thumbs idly brushing the underside of her breasts. Sighing she nuzzled under Spike's chin, more than content when she felt his lips move to brush the side of her neck.  
  
"How're you feeling, Willow?"  
  
For a moment she was perplexed. Of course she felt wonderful, like she was floating on air. She had Spike with her, wrapped about her body, so that she could feel his powerful legs on either side of her own, enfolding her, keeping her safe. She was warm and happy, and very, very satisfied.  
  
And then she remembered.  
  
"Oh my god!" Sitting up, she pulled away from Spike's arms, but wasn't able to escape his vampire reflexes as he pulled her back against his chest, one hand between her breasts, the other against her stomach, holding her close. She struggled against him, embarrassment colored with a mixture of so many other conflicting emotions she couldn't hope to reason them all out. But Spike held strong, refusing to let her go and eventually she grew tired, her body finally giving out and falling against his, her face hidden in his shoulder. Strong fingers wound their way though her hair, gently massaging her scalp, easing the tension from her shoulders.  
  
"Finished now, Pet?" Willow didn't say anything, only rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. "There now, Luvie, no more struggling. You're all right, now. The morphine's all worn off and you're probably exhausted even though you slept through most of it…well, slept might be too strong, more like fainted."  
  
At the word fainted, she pulled back and looked into his blue eyes, noting that his breath smelled like peppermint which must have been for her benefit. "I…fainted?"  
  
Spike's face instantly changed, his expression going carnal. "Might have been a bit much for you Red, all that--" With lightning reflexes, Spike struck, his mouth claiming Willow's in a bruising kiss that spoke of instant dominance and a passion not nearly sated. His tongue fought against her weak defenses to plunder her mouth, forcing hers into complete submission. For a moment she was half frightened by his forcefulness, but some part of Willow understood that Spike needed this, needed to dominate her for just a little while before he could calm himself down. He was after all a vampire, and as she was only human, she knew he was being quite gentle with her. After what seemed forever, Spike pulled back, his tongue running over her bottom lip one final time. His voice was seductive as he ended his previous sentence, "Sexual stimulation."  
  
Through the haze of drugs and something far older, Willow fought to capture the images that floated around her mind. She remembered clearly everything up until the needle pierced her arm. After that, the images became blurry, but she thought she heard the sound of heavy breathing, of loud moans that turned into screams that seemed to form a word she couldn't identify. She remembered the light of the fire, the dancing of the flames, the sound of the popping wood, and that muffled screaming again. Then another memory of the darkness--a flash of skin--maybe her arm.  
  
And then suddenly, it was as if she were looking down at herself from outside her body. She saw herself spread out across the bed, her knees wide and bent, Spike's hands holding them to the bed as they shook and struggled for purchase. She saw her hands fisted into the comforter, her breasts large as they arched with her back, her head thrown back into the pillows, her eyes so wide she could see the near black green they had become. But just as the memory was from out of body, she briefly understood that it was little more than her reflection in the mirror that hung upon the ceiling over the bed. It was then she sensed the change, she saw Spike's head at her center, notice for the first time that she was watching him drink from her, before she saw his head come up, his game face towards her. Then suddenly he returned, his lips to her body, and she began to scream.  
  
Her body lashed from side to side, her head thrown back so that the reflection shifted so quickly she could barely understand it. The screaming was forever, the sound so full of emotional release that it was impossible to mistake it for anything other than what it was--his name, she was screaming his name in released passion so pure and immodest that it scorched her soul. The sound, his name, his touch, his body, tongue, mouth, touching her, tasting her, overwhelming her; and her eyes as she saw them through the mirror, the total and utter abandonment of all her senses to this one male. Her eyes told the whole truth, on that bed, in the firelight of that room, her soul had become his, to own and to possess as he willed it. As her mind rushed back to the present, to her body now cocooned by water and Spike's blood warmed heat, she knew that tonight, she'd give him her body as well. Before the night was over, he would possess everything she had to offer him, including her innocence.  
  
Her breath quickened in her chest, her body tingling with her now resolved heart. Carefully, she turned to him, her face looking up into those fathomless blue eyes that captivated her, holding her tongue prisoner so that she couldn't even speak to tell him what she wanted.  
  
She didn't have too, he already knew.  
  
Willow knew he allowed her to make the first move, knew he wanted to and yet held back as much for her peace of mind as to allow his demon to feel her strength. Shifting her hips she felt for the first time the deep ache that the warm water was slowly relieving. She didn't have to move further to know she was tender, raw from a night of minute fang lacerations and Spike's insistent tongue. Briefly she shivered at a sudden memory of his touch, and she knew when she next looked into his eyes that he understood, and wanted her even more for that understanding.  
  
Her arm broke the water's surface slowly, and even though the bathroom air was warm from the tub, she still felt the coolness of the air as she wrapped her arm around Spike's neck and shifted her hips to slide her knees around his thighs. His arousal was stiff against her stomach, and she knew her eyes were wide at her discovery. His smirk told her everything she needed to know, but she held her ground against her nervous embarrassment. Spike was teasing her, giving her as much control as he was willing to let her have. She knew, she understood, and she accepted.  
  
Her fingers brushed the back of his neck and she watched his eyes golden for a moment in satisfaction. He was hers as much as she was his.  
  
Willow's voice was timid when she spoke, but it was a cover, she already knew the answer. "Did everything go…alright, last night?"  
  
Spike nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Went fine. How much do you remember?"  
  
She closed her eyes against a sudden flash of memory, of his strong hands against her hips, holding her body to the mattress. "Enough." She shifted, her head tipping under his, her mouth delivering a kiss to the underside of his chin. "I remember enough."  
  
The growl she remembered from last night emanated from Spike's chest, vibrating through her body pressed tightly against him. Her body's response was immediate, as if in the period of one night she'd been trained to understand that vampire call. Liquid fire rushed down her body to pool in that place deep inside her, a smoldering that fanned out and demanded her attention.  
  
She didn't know her chest constricted, didn't know her body had whimpered in response to his call. All Willow knew, all she cared about, was that the man she loved was before her, and she was ready, ready to end this power struggle between them. Willow Rosenburg was prepared to submit, completely, to the call of her chosen mate.  
  
She moved one hand down his neck, resting it against his chest, over the place that once held a beating heart. Slowly, her fingers stroked, as if seeking to revive that heartbeat.  
  
When his hands suddenly surged out of the water, when his fingers wrapped painfully around her upper arm, his fingernails unwittingly biting into her flesh, she'd been ready; she knew what was expected of her. How she knew she didn't know, but it was as if it were engrained in her soul, as if she'd known all along that this was how it would end.  
  
"You're mine, Willow!" Came the guttural growl of something all together not human. "Mine until the end of time, do you understand that?! Do you?!" His grip increased, and the flesh about her arms began to bruise against the abuse. But she was silent, and instead of words, she raised her head, forcing her eyes to meet his which were now the color of black gold.  
  
With her eyes she submitted to him; with her gaze she gave herself to him for eternity. One century to the next--time didn't matter. This moment was stronger than time, stronger than god, stronger than death, it was the beginning of everything, and the end of everything else.  
  
Something deep inside her told her to remain silent, even when Spike grew angry, even when he forced her body half way out of the water and shook her, her long hair whipping about her, the muscles of her arms grinding against bone to make her cry out, and still she did not answer with words, only her eyes spoke.  
  
"No one will ever have you but me, Willow! No man, no woman that I do not choose will ever touch you again! You're body belongs to me; everything that was once you now belongs to me! My word is law, my voice gospel! Disobey me and I will punish you, please me and I will lavish upon you more than you ever imagined possible! When I choose I will bring you across, I will make you my queen, and until then, you will obey me, do you understand?!" His beautiful poets face had slipped, replaced by the mask of the demon which was more than fitting because Willow knew that it was the demon housed within that spoke now, that commanded. Fangs bared, golden eyes boring into her own, Willow did the only thing she knew would earn the respect of the demon, she told it with her eyes that she was his, and kept her lips silent. She would never bind herself to this agreement, never willingly give herself away completely, not in word, but her eyes spoke the truth, her eyes were the windows to her heart.  
  
And then suddenly, the demon let her go. Willow's unsupported body splashed back into the tub, sending a wave of water cascading over the side to slide across the marble floor. Beneath the water's surface her arms burned from the abuse, and her body instinctively began to shake with reaction--but she was not afraid, she'd just won.  
  
The voice that spoke next was the combination of something timeless and indistinguishable between good and evil, maintaining only the need for survival beyond her understanding. "She does not break." And then, "I approve."  
  
It would have been so much easier for Willow to think that the demon and Spike were two separate beings, but they weren't, they were one, sharing the same body, and the same mind. Though the part of Spike that retained little humanity and only an instinctual drive to survive had just damaged her body, the part that had once been a poet was in complete tandem with it- -they were one.  
  
"Willow?" She looked up into clear blue eyes again, offering a weak smile as she tried to rub the pain out of her arms. "You did so good, baby, so good." Gently, mindful of her arms, he pulled her back against his body, letting her cheek rest against his chest as she recovered from the ordeal. Softly his words drifted to her, lulling her tired body into a trance like state.  
  
"The demon is as much the vampire, as the vampire is the demon; both demon and vampire are bound. At the same time, they're different, with the same drives only different ways of achieving those desires. It's like two individuals going after the same thing, using different means of getting it. I never want to hurt you, Willow, and I'm so proud of you for being strong. Things are going to be fine for us now, I promise. You're mine now, Willow; I'll take care of you for the rest of your existence, I take care of what's mine."  
  
Awake, she felt him removed the dried blood that stubbornly held out against the water. She allowed him to move her like a rag doll as he washed her hair, then scrubbed her body lightly. She sat passively on the edge of the tub as he dried her off before rubbing cooling lotion on her parched skin. She held him around the neck as he took her back into the bedroom, as he sat them down on the rug before the fire, both naked and damp, as he meticulously brushed out the knots in her hair, allowing the fire to dry their skin. Willow was silent and unresponsive for all of these actions, allowing her soon to be lover to pamper her, to care for her, to love her.  
  
Finally, the last knot yielded under the ministrations of the brush, and she knew her hair gleamed in the orange firelight. Against the soft bearskin she sat upon, Willow turned around, her eyes seeking the cool blue of her love's. Shifting so that her knees were beneath her, Willow knelt before Spike, the glory of her body highlighted and shadowed by the golden flames.  
  
Her movements were slow but not hesitant, there was no reservation left in her now, only a need to complete what was started long ago, back in Sunnydale on a warm summer night. One delicate hand rose to a warm chiseled cheek, and she allowed her fingers to caress there before moving to brush an invisible strand of hair behind his ear; her fingers trailing down his neck to rest against his chest, where his heart once beat. Her other hand moved then, seeking his before taking his strong wrist and bringing the palm of his hand to rest against her cheek. For a moment she held it there, before dropping it away, leaving Spike's fingers to caress her face before sliding down to curve around the back of her neck.  
  
Her eyes had never left his, and in this moment, this last true moment, Willow offered her love a smile.  
  
"So that everyone will know who I belong to," and she slowly and carefully tilted her head to the side, exposing her throat.  
  
His nod was slow and sensual, his eyes telling her he understood her sacrifice, that he knew what she was offering him, and that he accepted the unspoken truth--that the burden of responsibility would no longer be hers once he moved into the cradle of her neck. His eyes dropped to her throat, and Willow leaned her body into his at his gentle pull. One warm hand moved to her hip, only to slide up her side to hold her steadily at her lower back.  
  
She felt his kiss over her jugular, felt the vibrations of his voice more than she heard the words. "I love you, Willow; my mate, and my queen." In her own response, she brushed her lips against his neck.  
  
His face shifted then, and she felt the sharp graze of his fangs as he opened his mouth about that bit of flesh. Closing her eyes she unconsciously stretched her neck further, willingly accepting his mark of possession.  
  
The strike was severe and true. His fangs tore through skin and muscle to pierce the very flow of her life. The pain was intense, stabbing quickly, shooting through her entire being before completely dying away into oblivion as he drew the first mouthful of life from her.  
  
Ecstasy as she'd never known it shuddered through her body, wracking her with an instant orgasm that forced the tips of her nails deeply into the flesh of his neck and chest. She screamed, lifting her body with her knees, pushing against the exquisite pleasure that burned itself throughout her entire being. She cried his name over and over, screamed and screamed the name of her mate, her one true love.  
  
It seemed as if it lasted for hours, as her body pulled taunt as a bowstring humming from the strain. In reality it was quick, her body already too low on blood from the last few days of lustful feeding. Three long pulls were all he took, three mouthfuls of life that sealed her forever as his, and marked her eternally as the mate to a Master.  
  
Carefully he licked the wound, feeling the puckered flesh of his mark before slicing his tongue and allowing a few precious drops of their mingled blood to seal the open wounds. In his arms she was still taunt, still crying out his name, her hands still ripping into his flesh. He held her as the rush faded, leaving her breathless and needing. He watched her head fall backwards, exposing her neck as her breasts and abs were exposed to him in the firelight.  
  
She was porcelain perfection, as the heat in her body flushed her skin, making her rosy and alive. Her chest rose and fell with deep painful gasps of breath that were only just beginning to slow. Soothingly he ran his hand over her sweating face, brushing the perspiration back towards her still damp hair. She mewed into his touch, begging with sound that her body did not consciously make for him to continue.  
  
That sound, that unconscious call of need from one mate to another. They weren't perfectly bonded yet, for that she'd need to become a vampire, but his demon had accepted her, and so it responded instinctually to her cries, to her desires.  
  
Leaning forward he licked from the valley of her breasts up the column of her neck and to her chin, pulling her forward then before plundering her mouth. Her senses were still returning to her, so her responses were weak, and in her weakness, he took control, sweeping his tongue across hers as she fought her exhaustion to respond.  
  
Her body whimpered again, and his demon answered with a growl of dominance that quickly morphed into action. As if lifting a doll, Spike stood, carrying Willow's hanging body to the bed before laying her across the newly changed sheets; watching as her white skin was surrounded by the midnight satin. Her body was ripe, her breasts full, her lips swollen, her legs parted--a silent invitation.  
  
Spike's hands moved to her hair, brushing out the strands so they fanned out about her head. Soon, as her body rested, her hair was laid out, starburst around her in a hallo of red gold. His hands continued their soothing gestures, tracing the lines of her face, running lightly over the column of her torso, caressing down her thighs.  
  
Eventually, her eyes drifted open, their green depths swimming in a euphoria of sensation. Slowly she reached for him, pulling him by the shoulders until he was half draped over her body, before running her hands into his hair and bringing his mouth down to take hers.  
  
The kiss was just as slow, loving, conveying that the hardships were now over, that only security and love remained. His hands found her breasts, and lightly he touched her, aware that her body had suffered greatly these last few nights and he needed to be gentle with her. Quietly she moaned, arching into his touch, pulling her hands to encircle his biceps, holding him to her. Her mouth fought back, her tongue taking the initiative to invade his, to slip past his full lips.  
  
As their mouths worked together, Willow's hands become more insistent, her whines more vocal, less about vibration and more about sound. She was needing, so completely ready for him that her body sang with desire, shook with unreleased passion.  
  
With effort he dragged his mouth from hers, but wasn't able to stop himself from licking at his mark upon her throat. But that last move was too much, too much strain on a body that had never experienced this type of torturous passion.  
  
Spike pulled back at the sound of Willow's sob. Tears of frustration dropped from her eyes, and he growled deep in his chest at their sight, eliciting another sob from his mate.  
  
"Willow, Luv?"  
  
"Please…oh please…please, please…" She didn't know what she was saying anymore, too blinded by this fierce and total ache in her body. He'd never intended to make her beg, and it destroyed him to see her so--to look upon her face and see the pain she was in.  
  
"Shhhshhhh, Willow, my love, shhhhh. Spike's going to take care of you. I'm so sorry, baby. Just breath for me, Red, breath deep, I'll make it stop hurting real soon." She continued to whimper, but he saw her understanding through the haze in her eyes.  
  
He moved swiftly, shifting the full weight of his body against Willow's to let her know he hadn't left her. She cried out at the contact, her senses beyond overloaded as she pressed her hips repeatedly against him, seeking pressure where she needed it most. He cooed to her softly, trying to calm her down with his voice alone, but she was too far gone, too far beyond the point of simple reason.  
  
Cautiously, he positioned himself, mindful to keep the stimulus to a minimum, lest she hurt herself during the first true thrust of a male body. One hand held her hip down and while he tried to be gentle, he knew he was bruising her flesh as she pressed wildly up against him. She'd ache tomorrow from the numerous bruises and lacerations, but that was tomorrow, and this was now.  
  
"I love you, Willow."  
  
"Spike!"  
  
Then with one powerful shift of his hips, he brought them together. She cried out from the pleasure, the completion, the overwhelming sense that they were finally and truly one being. She was too hot, too ready for him already to bother with a need for time, all that was required was the delicious friction, and so he gave it to her.  
  
Each thrust was more demanding than the last, each withdraw more heart wrenching. Her legs wrapped about his hips in a crushing need to bring him closer, drive him deeper, to make that tug and slide more enduring. With every move her cries got louder until she was sobbing for him to help her to finish this game they'd begun in that hateful town.  
  
The tempo increased, while her cries continued to drive him insane, forcing him to fulfill the call of his mate for completion. His mouth sought out her breast, his teeth just grazing the nipple.  
  
Then he felt it, the flutter of her inner walls, the feel of her body holding onto his and refusing under any circumstance to let him go without a fight. Her soft sobs abruptly changed to wild keening, as her back arched up, her body supported by her head and neck as she screamed his name.  
  
"SPIKE!"  
  
It was his name on her lips, her sweet voice calling it for the world to hear, for the world to know who had brought her this divine pleasure. It caught him almost completely off guard, his seed erupting from his body to fill hers.  
  
He caught himself before he crushed her, his ears picking up the shuddering repetition of his name as Willow came down from her high. His body still locked intimately with hers, he rolled, bringing her atop him, her knees sliding around his hips to keep her centered. Little mini tremors shook her, and he tried to sooth her relaxing body by running his hands in all direction across her back.  
  
Slowly, her breathing evened out, until he thought for a moment she might be asleep, too exhausted from everything to maintain consciousness. Then, in a breathy whisper, she spoke.  
  
"Thank you. For everything. For loving me, for claiming me, for making me feel like…this. Thank you, Spike, thank you, William, thank you."  
  
Words were simply lost to him then, and so he just held her, his mate, his lover, his heart, close to his chest, and imagined, that for just one moment as he drifted off to sleep, that the heart in his chest beat one last time for her--his queen. 


	14. The Morning After Pill and Other White L...

The Morning After Pill and Other White Lies  
  
As Willow's mind came back to her, so too did her aches and pains. Inwardly she grimaced, her whole body groaning with her movement. When she finally managed to crack her eyes open, she found herself against Spike's chest. His skin was still slightly warm to the touch, and her cheek felt good against him, as did the rest of her body.  
  
She never knew if it was her movements that awoke him, or if he'd been awake the entire time, just listening to the gentle beating of her sleeping heart. His fingers took her slightly off guard as they came to run carefully though her hair, stopping at the first hint of a knot, knowing it was not something he could work though without causing her pain.  
  
His touch was still electric, still inspiring of all things that were great and true in the world. They were lovers now, and Willow felt a sense of relief so profound it threatened to reduce her to tears. They were lovers, she to him and he to her. Bound now in a way that she could feel just under the surface of her skin. It was more than one body to the next, more than demon to human, more than even magic, it was as ageless as time, as boundless as the universe--they were one.  
  
She smiled at that thought.  
  
They were one.  
  
"I love you, Spike." Her voice was quiet; and though she'd slept for a very long time, she was still exhausted, and knew she would be for some time to come. Beneath her, Spike shifted. One leg came between hers until his raised thigh bumped against her in a now arousing and comforting gesture. His hands too delivered a bit more pressure and she sighed as his arms came to wrap about her waist and shoulders, pressing her more firmly against his comfort.  
  
"I love you as well, my Willow."  
  
Closing her eyes against the delicious splendor of it all, she breathed deeply of his skin, knowing a large part of his intoxicating scent had to do with her own body upon his. She nuzzled his chest, hoping to absorb as much of that fragrance as possible, to bind it to her body and his for as long as she could.  
  
Below her came the deep rumbling of a laugh that caused every nerve in her body to fire with warmth and something so much grander. He knew what she was doing, and demonstrated as much by leaning up and smelling deeply from her hair before kissing her shoulder.  
  
"You smell like me, Luv."  
  
She smiled before shaking her head. "No, my Spike, I smell like us." He didn't laugh this time, only nodded before kissing her shoulder again. A part of her recognized how Drusilla like that sounded, but more than ever before, she now understood.  
  
The vampiress Drusilla, had not been able to separate the world from the bond, for that is all it really was. He was hers, the bond made it so, just as the bond between two Childes would have made Spike and Drusilla belong to one another. She was Spike's and Spike was hers, but in a way she didn't yet, he belonged to those vampires, the two who had lived in this house with him, made love to him as she had only the night before. Spike would always belong to Drusilla and Angelus, and he would always belong to her--and suddenly, that didn't seem wrong or worrisome, only understandable, and even comforting. She had her place with Spike, just as Drusilla and Angelus did. They couldn't take him away from her, and she couldn't take him away from them.  
  
The last thing that had been bothering her, the last little bit of doubt seeped out of her body and vanished into the sigh she gave voice to as she snuggled against him.  
  
They belonged together, forever.  
  
"Spike?" Her eyes were closed again.  
  
"Yes, Luv?"  
  
Willow smiled slightly, her lips brushing his chest as she spoke.  
  
"I'm hungry, my Spike."  
  
* * *  
  
"I don't think I've ever seen anyone eat that much in my entire life--and that's saying quite a bit, Pet."  
  
On his lap Willow giggled. She was shoveling food past her lips almost before she could swallow the last bite, and he mentally shook himself for forgetting to feed her for the last two days.  
  
"I can't help it, I'm starving! You at least got fed." At the reminder of her blood, he shifted his head from her right shoulder to her left, tilting her head with his cheek so he could again taste the twin scars upon her neck. He heard her gasp, new the reaction to the bond was strongest at this point. Against her will her hand came up, clutching the back of his neck, forcing him to continue. He wanted to, gods below he wanted to take her again, claim her over and over until their was not a part of her he did not own, until no demon in any of the countless dimensions would ever dare touch her. He wanted to make love to her again, in the kitchen, in the ball room, the library, the study or bedroom, it didn't matter, nothing mattered but his body inside hers and the look upon her face when she knew it was him, when her eyes were clear and she knew she belonged to him.  
  
He pulled back when he noticed she'd stopped eating. "Come on, Willow, eat up. I know you're still hungry and weak. After this I'll take you into the upstairs parlor and you can get some sun, it'll do you good."  
  
She was weak, so much weaker than she should have been. Her mental exhaustion from before, the blood he'd taken from her, and her lack of nutrition were all depleting her of the energy her body needed to function. She was like a doll in his arms, and though she insisted upon raising the fork to her own lips, it was slow going as the simple movement taxed her strength more than it fed it.  
  
He'd carried her into the bathroom upon her confession this morning and he couldn't help but close his eyes in painful understand of what he'd done to her. She was a litany of bruises. Her arms were ringed in purple and green where he'd gripped her the night before, shaken her to try and force her subservience. There were scratches and bit marks all along her breasts and stomach, and her hips and thighs held even more bruises. Her eyes had been haunted with that vague look that accompanies shock and too much blood loss, and he'd been quick to bath and dress her wounds before bringing her down to breakfast for a taste of food and his blood.  
  
He couldn't give her much, he'd given her enough already to worry him, but her body was in pain, and that was something he refused to stand for. He'd used his own blood to season the oatmeal, knowing to a body as depleted and bonded as hers, she would find it irresistible; and in fact, she'd finished the bowl of oats and sugar before even touching the rest of the meal. She'd perked up after that, but his blood was like liquor to a babe, and she was listless because of it, resigned to most of the things he told her to do. Most.  
  
"But you can't go in there with, and I don't want to go alone. I want to stay with you today, all day long." She leaned her head back, turning to the side so she could kiss his chin, his cheek, before he turned too and their lips met, his tongue stealing out to taste the sugar still clinging to her lips.  
  
When Spike pulled back she was still lost in the kiss. He brushed his lips against her cheek. "I know you want me close, Willow, and I will be. You need some light and the old drawing room is the best place for that."  
  
She shook her head. "Couldn't we just go to a different room? The.library's big enough."  
  
He smiled, lifting the fork from her forgotten fingers and loading it with the last of her breakfast. "It'll only be for a few hours, Willow, that's all there is left of the daylight anyway. Besides," he brought the fork to her lips, and waited for her to take the offering into her mouth. "Besides, you'll fall asleep anyway."  
  
"But--"  
  
"No 'buts', you still need a lot of rest, Willow, and I have a lot of things I need to take care of before you awaken. So you'll take a nap like a good little girl, and let Spike get everything together." He smiled, leaning down to kiss her pouting lips only to hear her giggle delightedly. She was exhausted, and though he had no intention of treating her like a child, for now, he would, at least until she'd gained back her strength-- otherwise, he'd forget how fragile she was and make love to her until neither had anything left to give.  
  
"Ok, but can we go to the library first? I want to grab a book in case I can't sleep." He nodded, rising and lifting her into his arms before leaving the kitchen and ascending the first flight of stairs.  
  
In the library, he set her down on the couch before claiming the book she'd craved. Then once again, he lifted her up and took her the rest of the way to the sunroom. Stopping outside the door, he kissed her gently before setting her on her feet, bracing her when she swayed.  
  
"Just go in there and rest for a while. I promise that the moment the sun sets I'll come back for you and we'll go back down to the library and read together, alright?"  
  
Her smile lit up her face--the entire dark and dreary world he'd lived in since his very birth--she was light and breath, she was blood and warmth. She was everything to him, and he worshiped her. This slip of a girl was worth more to him than his entire existence, more than all the power he'd ever craved. It wasn't just her beauty or her mind, it was her essence.or perhaps Willow had said it best herself.  
  
She was his mass.  
  
Willow looked down at her feet before returning her gaze to his eyes. "Do you think.when you come for me.do you think we could go to the ballroom and dance for a little while? I know I'm weak, I can feel it. But if you just carried me, held me for a while, I'd really like that. I," she brought her hand to his chest, to a button on the seam. "I'd like it if we could be close like that. I-I know I'm too tired, too.well," she blushed. "To do what we'd really like to do after my nap, but if we danced together--that'd be enough for me." Her eyes were hopeful in the flicker of the gas lamps, and Spike couldn't resist touching her face, feeling the silk of her hair gliding through his fingers.  
  
He dropped a kiss to her forehead. "I would love to dance with you, Willow. We'll dance for as long as you want."  
  
There were tears in her eyes then, tears of happiness that he kissed away as they silently fell down her cheeks towards her smiling lips.  
  
"Thank you, Spike."  
  
"Don't thank me, Luv, you've no reason to. Whatever my queen desires, she shall have." He brushed her hair behind her ears before kissing her again. Then with much regret, he opened the white door, careful to stay away from the stray sunbeams that drifted into the hallway. "Rest, Willow, I'll come for you soon."  
  
She nodded, and without another word, stepped into the room. Gently he closed the door behind her, breathing in a long draw of breath before moving back down the hallway and towards his study. The bond might be there but there was much he still had to do to ensure her safety, and the first, was to make a phone call.  
  
* * *  
  
"Yes, well, Angel, I do understand--"  
  
The vampire growled, his features shifting to flicker across his face, revealing his true form. "You have no idea, Giles, none at all. You Watchers, watch, but that means you only see what we want you too, you're not smart enough to actually look where it'll do you some good."  
  
He turned his back on the older man--or should he say younger? In his line of sight now, the Slayer squirmed, before glancing once at the werewolf before looking back at him.  
  
Angel felt Cordelia come up beside him. "Angel, not that I don't think vampires have their good points, but don't you think it's a bad idea to leave Willow with Spike? I mean, there's no telling what he could do to her."  
  
He'd felt it hours ago, but if truth be told he'd sensed it farther back then that. He and William shared the same demon; after all, he'd been the one to Sire the boy. It was a collective conscious to a point, a way of knowing where your Childe was so you could either save them or punish them. He'd known the moment Spike had come back to town, known and ignored it for the five days the vampire had slinked around. But Spike hadn't come to him, even though Angel knew Drusilla hadn't come back with his Childe. To say his heart had been broken would have been an understatement. Angelus had been driven by rage and near insanity over his sexual encounter with the Slayer, and he'd taken it out on his favorite Childe believing Spike could take it. But the decades without him, the near century with Dru had changed his beloved Spike. The boy was different now, and that fact had enraged Angelus--to know that he'd not only been infatuated with the Slayer, but had also lost his most beloved Childe had driven the Scourge of Europe nearly mad with the need for revenge.  
  
But Spike had returned two months ago--without Drusilla--and had not sought out his Sire. Angel had known what Angelus had not, that Spike was already so cracked that the Master's type of psychological discipline would only destroy their bond further. Heartbreakingly he'd been right, and Spike, his most beloved Childe, had--in his grief--helped the Slayer to destroy his Sire, to kill Angelus. Angel couldn't blame him, and now, neither could Angelus. His demon was a cold and ruthless creature, but the Sire/Childe bond was strong, and in the end, Angelus had been proud that Spike would do what needed to be done to protect himself. It is always a parent's greatest pride to see their children live and be happy, vampires-- though not always the case--could feel such emotions, and Angelus had.  
  
It broke Angel's heart to know that Spike could return to Sunnydale, knowing Angelus was no more, and still not seek him out. Intellectually, he knew Spike despised him, despised Angel. He was weak, while Angelus was strong. Angel had shunned Spike away after the Romm girl, while before that, they had been lovers. But in the end it didn't matter, Spike should have come to him, should have begged his Sire's forgiveness upon learning he still lived. That didn't happen though, and Spike had driven into town and stayed away before grabbing the redhead and leaving town.  
  
Two months later, the Mayor was defeated and thanks to The Powers That Be, everything was different.  
  
The Powers had come to him, requesting his help with the Mayor, in exchange they would give him what he most desired. He'd assumed it was his soul, to make it a permanent part of who he was, of the vampire. So he'd fought, he'd helped the Slayer and her Watcher, helped Willow's friend, and werewolf in the final battle to save the world. In the end, they'd been successful, and in the end, The Powers had upheld their end of the bargain.  
  
It was still his secret. The Slayer and her friends thought he'd been given his soul permanently, and the Slayer had thrown herself repeatedly at him for the last month. The very sight of her disgusted him, but held his tongue, it wouldn't do to let the ruse over just yet.  
  
Just then a gentle sob caught his attention, and he found his eyes softening just a bit as he looked at the broken boy in the corner. Xander had not been the same since Willow's disappearance. Where once a vibrant young man had stood, now resided a broken child. Xander had failed to graduate with the rest of his class, and after a particularly horrible night against his stepfather, the boy had moved in with the Slayer before taking up residence with the Watcher. There wasn't an ounce of life left in him, and he'd found himself wondering if it wouldn't just be a mercy killing to end the boy's suffering.  
  
It had been Xander who'd found out first about the Slayer and the Werewolf. He'd gone to talk with the band member when he'd heard the dog and the Slayer arguing about Willow. Xander had learned of their deception and Willow's discovery and flight before taking off after the girl himself. By chance alone, he'd found Willow's coat in the playground the next morning, after hours of searching. The search stretched out for weeks, but when all but Xander and Willow's parents had given up, the boy had become anything but responsive.  
  
He watched as the cheerleader hesitated going to her ex-boyfriend. He'd learned, that while shallow, the brunet had a good heart; however her kindness did not extend to the drowning boy in the corner.  
  
Growling again, Angel moved, coming quickly to Xander's side, resting his hand against the youth's shoulder. "I cannot explain everything to you Xander, but I do know that Willow is alright. Spike hasn't hurt her, he hasn't hurt her at all."  
  
Chocolate brown eyes looked up and into his own, and he watched as Xander's lip trembled against his tears. "H-how can you say that? Spike'd kill his own mother if he thought it'd get him something, and now you're telling me he has Willow, has all this time! Of course he'd hurting her, Angel, of course he would; he's a vampire, and that's what vampires do!"  
  
He shook his head, knowing the room was staring at him, his display with Xander not without close scrutiny. "While it's true, that Spike would most likely kill his own mother, I know for a fact he has not hurt Willow. Not all vampire's are fledglings, Xander. Spike is a Childe, my Childe to be exact. The Watcher Journals speak little of the Sire/Childe bond because they cannot see it or understand how a vampire could feel anything beyond evil and survival, but that's not true. It can't be. I'm a vampire, Xander, and I'm not trying to kill you."  
  
Red-rimmed eyes looked up at him then, their depths intensified by the tears still floating in them. "It's not the same thing, Angel. It's not the same. Spike doesn't have a soul, you do."  
  
And he chose to look away then, chose to stand and move across the room to the other window, rather than lie while looking into the eyes of a child. He drew a deep breath, wariness in his voice. "Xander, as I already said, I can sense some of what Spike is going through, what he's feeling. He won't hurt Willow, he can't."  
  
The Slayer cut him off. "Why not! What's so damn special about Willow that Spike's not aching to sink his fangs into her?" There was malice and a great deal of jealousy in her voice, and Angel reflected on how ugly she truly was, while forcing himself to ignore the fact that he'd ever considered her attractive.  
  
He turned then, back to face the mansion living room, back toward the Watcher and the Slayer, towards the cheerleader and the werewolf, back to the failed Watcher, and back to Xander. "He won't kill her, Slayer, because that is not his plan for her. As I already said, I know Willow is alive and safe because I felt the bonding last night, and before you ask, I will not tell you anything more about the bonding except that she is safe and well. Vampires keep many secrets, and this is one that even I shall not break."  
  
"So we're just going to let Spike keep her? There's no way, Angel! Spike came into my town and took my best friend, there's no way I'm going to let him get away with that. Now tell me where blonde is so I can go there and slay his bleached British ass!"  
  
It took everything inside him not to shift into game face and rip her throat out. Her jealousy of not being the center of the world was clear even to the simple humans in the room, and Angel watched as Cordelia rolled her eyes, and Xander glared deathly at her. Giles and Wesley seemed torn between agreeing with her and taking her over their knee, while Oz seemed as blasé about it as he did everything else.  
  
Angel shook his head. "I will not tell you, Slayer. Now it's late and time for you to go."  
  
He watched her outrage fist her hands. "In case you forgot, Angel, I'm the Slayer and you're the vampire, that means when I say, 'tell me what I want to know', you tell me. Now I'm going to ask you one more--"  
  
In rage his game face fell into place and he pounced, gripping the back of her hair and yanking her head back to expose her throat. He heard the others gasp as an afterthought as his golden eyes locked with the blue of the Slayer's. "And in case you forgot, Slayer, you're absolutely no match for me." He threw her away from him and straight into her Watcher. "Get her out of here!" He shouted before turning around and walking back to the window.  
  
He heard the struggle as Giles dragged Buffy from the room, heard as the others followed them out, and heard the gentle breathing and soft heartbeat of Xander as he came back into the room moments later.  
  
"There are days I get the impression that you're not fighting for the white hats anymore, Dead boy. I hear you talk about Willow being safe, but I wonder if it's really Willow you're concerned about at all. I know you probably don't want anything to happen to her, that you'd rather she was safe then not safe, but still.I gotta wonder if it isn't more about Spike then it is Willow."  
  
Angel closed his eyes. "And if it is?"  
  
He heard the boy shake his head. "I don't know, I really don't. It should be enough for me that she's safe, that she's really alive and that--even though she's with Spike--at least she's not hurt or dead. But Angel, you've gotta tell us more. I have to know! I have to see her with my own eyes! She's my best friend, and I treated her like shit! It's not enough for me to know she's ok because you say so, I have to really know! I mean.I mean.we ate steak together."  
  
He turned when he heard Xander collapse to the floor in a fit of broken sobs. And he knew, even more so than before, that Xander was truly broken. Angel knew that should Willow ever return, Xander was too far-gone to ever truly recover. He'd never be the same again, never the vibrant man he'd once been. In a way he was like Drusilla, driven mad by grief and sorrow.  
  
Without another word, Angel went to him, lifting the sobbing mass and taking him to the bedroom. He removed the boy's shoes and then placed him under the covers tucking him in before brushing his hair from his forehead. But Xander was already exhausted, and he quickly fell asleep, completely ignorant that he was now poised to share the bed with his once mortal enemy.  
  
However, just as Angel prepared to consider the situation, his private cell phone rang, hidden in the wall safe behind the china cabinet in the dinning room. He always hid important things in wall safes, his father had once told him they were the best hiding places, as long as they weren't concealed behind paintings, which were too obvious. The ring was impossible for human ears to hear, but Angel had been expecting the call and felt the vibrations through his enhanced hearing.  
  
It rang twelve times before he picked it up, knowing there were only two people in the universe who knew this number.  
  
When he did manage to answer it, it was with the slow and sultry accent of his youth, the brogue slipping out before he could catch it, before he remembered his little secret.  
  
"'Ello, William. 'Ave ya been a good boy?" 


	15. A Phone Without Wires, Bell Would Have S...

Chapter 15: A Phone Without Wires--Bell Would Have Shit Himself!  
  
The library was warmly lit and cheerful when Willow entered. Spike sat in one of the chaste loungers, waiting for her. He smiled a greeting, throwing his right leg over the side so that she could easily position herself between his legs, easily rest her head against his chest and listen to the sound of his beautiful voice as he read to her from their most current novel, Of Mice and Men. Both had read the book before, but she'd wanted to read it, having forgotten some of the more key elements to the book.  
  
As his face registered her expression, Willow watched the smile falter, saw the subtle shift of his body as he instantly became alert.  
  
"What is it, Luv? What's happened?"  
  
Her right hand was still clasped behind her back, her fingers idly playing with the criss cross of ivory white cord that held the back of her flowing white dress together. Self consciously, she clutched the small bit of metal and plastic in her hand, feeling the bite of the clip as it scratched the inside of her palm.  
  
She was standing still now, five feet in front of her beautifully handsome lover. Her feet felt cold against the hard wood floor and absently she wondered why she hadn't put shoes on, then she remembered what was in her hand.  
  
"Willow?"  
  
She looked up, offered her lover a quirky smile that soon melted into a frown. She hated the way his eyes moved back and forth over her face, hated the way his muscles were tensing more and more as the seconds ticked by. She knew what he was thinking, how could he not after all the other injuries she'd inflicted on herself? But that wasn't the case today; today she needed something from him.  
  
Drawing a shaky breath, Willow pulled her right hand in front of her, wanting to show Spike that she hadn't hurt herself, that she was still in control. It'd been nearly two weeks since they'd made love, since he'd placed his mark upon her body, and bound them forever. Since that night, Willow's strength and confidence had returned, and with each passing hour she felt herself become more and more whole, and more and more in love with her mate.  
  
He'd been so gentle with her since that night. He'd cared for her wounds tenderly, but never asking for forgiveness, as if he knew the wounds had been required. But she hadn't needed any apologies. She'd needed his touch, his presence, and his gentle kisses, which were slowly being tempered with more and more of the demon.  
  
Slowly, as if he'd been holding back for the two months prior to their bonding, Spike was allowing the demon side of him to emerge in her presence. It'd been scary the first time. They'd been out picking berries by the cliffs when she'd spotted a rather beautiful clump of them growing by the ledge and had inched closer to grab a hold of them. She'd been close, but not that close, when Spike's heart stopping growl came a split second before he grabbed her about the waist and swung her away from the edge.  
  
His eyes had shone golden, the full mask of the demon upon his face, and those long dagger like fangs had been bared by thinning lips. But the sight hadn't scared her--if truth be told it'd done the exact opposite, it had enflamed her. Eyes wide with lust, she looked at him, and behind the flickering gold, she'd seen the answering call, he knew what he was doing to her, his mate.  
  
"You were too close, you could have fallen over." His words had been slightly slurred by the fangs, but Willow heard clearly the undercurrent of anger and perhaps slight worry. She'd known instantly that this had less to do with danger and far more to do with control. She could have given it away, could have agreed and backed down, but neither one of them wanted her to do that. No, both wanted her to fight, the chase was almost always worth the trouble, and so she'd stood her ground and faced the demon part of the man she loved, which she loved just as much.  
  
"You're being silly. I wasn't anywhere near the edge. Besides, I didn't see you going for those berries; no, you were sticking rather close to the ground, weren't you?" Her voice was mocking, but her eyes held the longing, that she knew he could see, that he understood because it was basic and primitive, and held her complete submission.  
  
She never saw him move, just felt his calf connect with the back of her knees; and then she was falling, only to be caught at the last second by arms as strong as steel, and as gentle as velvet. When she'd looked into his eyes, they were wild with a mixture of anger and need, and light that spoke of pride.  
  
He'd taken her right there, out in the open with only the blackberry bushes to prevent the ocean from witnessing their lovemaking. His grip had been hard, but never enough to mark her, and wounds he caused when he fed from her were quickly healed. It had been the most erotic night in her life, a heady mixture of pain and pleasure that sent her into quick shivers of lust if she dwelt too long on the memory.  
  
Spike had left the horses to their own devices that night, and carried her back to the house on his own; both leaving their clothing to catch on the wind and be discovered the next day torn and ruined, by the thorns of the bush or by fingers and claws, neither knew.  
  
That night, admits the silk sheets and cool feel of Spike's chest under her cheek, she'd come to realize something very important. Spike, her Spike, was not as he always appeared. It was in his nature to be loving and gentle, but it was also in his nature to be ruthless and cruel. She'd fallen in love with a being half in the world of light, and half in the world of darkness, one who could bring her roses one minute, and bruise her flesh without remorse the next. He didn't want to hurt her, only obtain her complete and total obedience; not to enslave her, but to protect her. He knew what she liked and didn't like, what she needed and what would truly hurt her. He was walking a fine tightrope of control, and he was doing it all for her.  
  
That night, she'd kissed him awake before moving to sit astride his body. She watched his eyes flicker from blue to gold and back again as she'd claimed him as her own, asserting her own power over him. She was his slave, just as much as he was hers. They were master to each other, and therefore equal in all ways. The demon was there, always lurking, but so was her poet, and she welcomed both, eager to feel the intensity of their battles as she provoked them both to their fullest potential.  
  
But now in the library, Willow's mind felt hesitant as Spike held out his hand to her left one, letting her know he wanted her to sit with him, but was willing to wait to hear her explanation. She moved silently, the only sound coming from the popping of sap in the fire, and the rustle from the folds of silk around her legs. When she was seated beside him, he tried to pull her into the shelter of his strong body, but she resisted, needing to face him now, needing every advantage for what she was about to ask.  
  
"Willow," She looked up, her deep green eyes locking with the blue of the sky. "Tell me what's wrong Luv. Tell me so I can fix it."  
  
Smiling, Willow shook her head. "You told me to get dressed."  
  
Spike chuckled. "Luv, if I'd known that asking you to put some clothes on would give you that expression on your face, I'd have gladly suffered though watching you move about naked. But it was you who was complaining about soreness." His right hand rose from his knee to caress her cheek before coming to rest possessively behind her neck, his fingers brushing the fine baby hairs that curled there.  
  
She was sore. Keeping up with the stamina of the undead was quite a feat, and Willow was still trying to adjust. As skilled fingers continued their assault, she closed her eyes and gave herself to the momentary pleasure of this simple contact. He always knew how to touch her, how to please her. Part of her resented the fact that there had been countless women before her, while the other part was grateful, knowing she now reaped the benefits of 200 years worth of experience.  
  
Spike chuckled again before Willow opened her eyes and sadly pulled away from him. For a moment the demon surfaced, and for the briefest second Spike's grip went hard and demanding, before the muscles relaxed and he drew his hand back.  
  
Forcing her eyes to her hand, Willow opened her palm and looked at the small block of plastic. Spike's hand came to rest under hers as she spoke. "I found it in my jeans, the ones I was wearing that night in Sunnydale. It.it went into powersave mode. When I turned it on.Spike," She looked up into his eyes, felt herself being drawn. "Spike, it's my mom and dad. They've been trying to find me. And Xander, Xander's number is on here too." She shook the pager a little to emphasize its importance. "Spike, they didn't just forget me, they've been looking for me. Look. That number there is Xander's emergency number for me, it means I have to call him right away, and he called me only four days ago. Look, look at these numbers, Xander's paged me eight times this week! Spike my mom--"  
  
"Can rot in hell where she belongs." The words were spoken in a deep chest growl that told Willow she'd tempted the demon.  
  
Looking up with desperately pleading eyes, Willow watched the gold flicker in and out. "Spike, I have to call them. I have to let them know that I'm alright. I can't just--"  
  
"NO!" He moved quickly and deliberately, seizing the pager before shifting around her body to stand three paces away. She was right behind him.  
  
Jumping to her feet, Willow moved, placing herself directly in front of him. A long time ago, Xander had quoted his particular expression she now wore, deeming it her "resolve" face. If he could have seen it now, he would have been both proud and terrified.  
  
"I have to call them, Spike. They must be worried sick about me. My mom I don't care about that much--not really. But Xander, my papa, I can't just let them worry about me like that! I don't know what I was thinking these last two months, but I can't just pretend that you and I are the only two people in the entire world anymore. Spike, I have to call them, I have to let them know that I'm alright!" There was a touch of anger in her voice, but mostly the conviction to make him understand that this wasn't an option she was giving him, more like a request to make this easier on the both of them by agreeing.  
  
His expression had gone from concerned to stone. Wearing black jeans and a red silk shirt he looked dark and dangerous as he stood there, glaring down at her. The gold was gone, as if the demon and the poet had reconciled to agree on this one issue which Willow now forced upon them. When he finally spoke, Willow couldn't help but shiver at the oppressive sound of death in his voice.  
  
"You are not calling anyone. These people," he shook the pager, "They're worse than anything the Hellmouth could have expelled on its own. They rip you apart every chance they get! You're mom since you were a baby, you father since you understood what it meant to hurt so bad you couldn't breath; and Xander that pathetic excuse for a boy hid under your skirt while you protected the lot of them! You don't owe them anything, Willow, not a damn thing, and I won't allow you to hurt yourself by trying to make life easier for a bunch of prats. Now just forget you ever found this thing, it doesn't mean anything to you."  
  
She could see it in the way his arm muscles began to tighten, saw the conviction in his eyes a second before she screamed and launched herself at his hand, fingers desperately groping for the pager about to be crushed with vampire strength.  
  
Startled by Willow's scream, and the launching of her smaller frame, Spike stumbled and then fell, rolling quickly to pin Willow's squirming form beneath his. He was too stunned to be angry, and as he listened to her half sobbed words, he heard the beginnings of begging.  
  
"Spike, don't break it! Please don't break it! Please, papa's trying to find me, I have to call him, I have to! Spike he's not that young, he was forty-five when I was born; his heart can't take it! Please, please let me call him, let me call papa and Xander. I won't talk long I promise, I won't even talk to mother if you don't want me to, but I have to call them, I have to tell them not to worry about me!" Exhausted from the struggle, Willow covered her face with her hands, and her final words were deeply muffled behind the flesh. "I don't want them to worry about me anymore, I want them to know that I'm with you, that I'm safe and happy. I want them to know I'm with you." The sob caught in her throat, and the tears were trickling down her cheeks when he finally managed to brace himself on his elbows and gently remove her hands.  
  
She wanted them to know she was with him.  
  
That one thought raced through his head, bouncing back and forth. She was lying beneath him, crying because she wanted those people she couldn't help but love to know that they could let her go, that she had him now, that she didn't need them anymore. She hadn't said those exact words, but Spike knew her now, understood her motives almost more than she did. That's how he knew that his mental explanation would cover Willow's parents, but not the boy she'd once loved.  
  
It was in the way she said his name, the way he seemed to crop up in their conversations. He remembered what it was like to think back on your first love, he'd had two, one before his turning and one after. That first love stuck with you, through time and circumstance. The pathetic human boy was that love for Willow, and though he hated it, though his demon rebelled against it, he knew he had no choice but to let her say good-bye. And it was good-bye. He wasn't willing to share her, no one would have her as he did. Willow was his mate, his queen, and no one, not a past love or even his sire would take her from him--no one!  
  
Slowly, his fingertips brushed her cheeks, lifting the tears away from her delicate skin. He watched her forest eyes open, watched as they swam with sadness and just the smallest flash of hope. Bringing her tears to his lips he flicked his tongue out to taste her sadness, wanting to remember the taste just as he vowed that he'd do everything in his power to prevent them from ever coming again.  
  
With a deep sigh, he dropped his forehead to hers, rested it there as his superior version allowed him to focus on her features from such a close proximity. Shaking his head slightly, Spike tipped his chin downwards to brush his lips against hers, grateful when she pressed to deepen the kiss.  
  
"I don't want you to call them, Willow. I think they'll only hurt you more." His words were whisper quiet, and Willow could feel the cool breath behind the words against her lips and cheeks.  
  
Blinking her eyes in acknowledgment, she lifted her tear soaked hand to his cheek brushing at imaginary hairs. "I know, but I have to. Just a few minutes; just to let them know that they don't have to worry about me anymore. Papa's a worrier Spike, he'll put himself into an early grave wondering if I'm alive or dead, or hurt."  
  
His eyes were sharp and focused. "I don't see a lot of bad coming from that, Pet. I'll be the first person standing in line to off the bastard for treating the way he did. I'm of the mind to go back to SunnyHell and end his pussy-whipped existence right now." He shifted, rising up a little to kiss her forehead while pressing the length of his body against hers.  
  
She nodded, just the smallest fraction of a nod, but one none the less. "I know. But I can't do it that way, Spike not right now. Please, if you can't understand, at least respect my decision. Five minutes, that's all I'm asking for; you can even stay with me if you want."  
  
"Damn right I'm staying with you!" He reared back, sitting onto his knees, as his hands helped lift her into a sitting position. "You think I'd let my own woman face something like that by herself, you've got to be pissed."  
  
He wasn't ready for the giggle. It sounded a bit watery, still drowning under the stoppered tears, but it was a giggle none the less, and Spike couldn't help but smile at hearing it or her next words. "Since when did I become, 'Your woman'? Honestly, Spike, no one talks like that anymore, and more than that, I'm not "your woman", like some piece of property."  
  
The mood was lightened, and she'd gotten her way. Spike felt his demon begin to pace at the back of his mind. It was allowing Willow this concession because it lost nothing, but as it paced back and forth it made damn sure that he knew that if its mate was hurt during the conversation, Rosenburg blood would be spilled, and it wouldn't be Willow's.  
  
Bringing his hands up, he gripped her about the waist and behind the neck and pulled her body towards his. With the silk under her bottom she glided easily into his body, and then he was kissing her, establishing his claim. He knew she understood and so he didn't hold back, allowing his tongue to possess her mouth, to drive all thought of resistance from her body as his hands moved into her hair to position her mouth where he wanted it.  
  
The kiss was long and commanding; establishing the rules of the following exchange. Willow would get her call, under the full knowledge that he was watching, and that his word would rule the exchange.  
  
When he pulled back he kissed her nose, wanting to keep things light for as long as possible. Spike smiled a predatory grin down at her bedroom eyes. "And what's so wrong with that title? I'll have you know that in the vampire community, to call you "my woman" is quite an honor."  
  
Willow rolled her eyes even as the smile split her face. "An honor for who?" She asked as Spike stood and offered her a hand up.  
  
He pulled harder than was required, and Willow stumbled into his embrace before he kissed her again. "Why me of course. I told you, vampires are a matriarchal society. Calling you my woman is like saying I'm a kept vamp. Actually, it might be nice to be a kept vampire for a while, haven't done that in decades." He flashed her his teeth before drawing her under his shoulder and out of the library.  
  
"Well if you're waiting for me to start bringing home dinner for you, you're sadly mista--wait, I am dinner.never mind." Their laughter followed them into Spike's study.  
  
Once again, he lifted her onto the dark desk, kissing her lips once more before moving to the wall safe. For a moment he flashed back to two weeks ago, when he'd done the same thing, gone for the same object--before he pushed the memory out of his mind. That conversation had been disturbing to say the least. Something had been terribly off about Peaches, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Shaking his head, he decided not to dwell on it, he had more important things to worry about now.  
  
Combination entered, he pulled the handle and opened the mini vault. Inside were various documents, including the deed to the house and property, along with a few odds and ends he'd kept from his more poofy days. Impatiently, he pushed aside an envelope containing some of his old and horrible poetry. Gods below, could he ever have been that pathetic?  
  
When his hand hit the metal case, he grabbed the handle and pulled it out. The briefcase was medium sized, and he carried it back to the desk without closing the safe. The combination was easily entered into the twin locks, and then he was lifting the top, exposing the satellite phone and all its complicated parts. He looked up just in time to see Willow staring at it with eyes the size of saucers. He couldn't help but laugh. "Honestly Luv, you didn't think a dinky little cell phone would work all the way out here, did you?"  
  
Her eyes glittered with the joke, but her words reminded him of one very important fact, "You forget, I still don't know where we are. Speaking of which, are you ever going to tell me?"  
  
Spike chuckled. "Cor, that's right, I still haven't told you yet, have I?" She shook her head, and he saw the flash of hope and curiosity enter her eyes. Finding something to teaser her with, Spike winked. "Well then, I guess if you can keep this little hello/good-bye conversation down to less than five minutes, I might be tempted to let a few town names slip-- hell, I might even take you to a few of them."  
  
She caught him off guard again when her hand fell against his chest and bunched the shirt in her fist. When he looked, her eyes were full of hope and longing. "Do you mean it, Spike? Really? You might take me out for a little while, show me where we are? I've been so curious, but I thought you'd never tell me, so I just gave up. Are you really serious?"  
  
Angry with his own forgetfulness, Spike's hand found her cheek again before circling back to brush the back of her neck. "I completely forgot that I hadn't told you yet, Luv. I meant to tell you ages ago, but it just slipped my mind. And here you've been so good, trying not to pester me about it." She nodded hopefully. "Well, I'll tell you what, promise me you'll keep the call short--you don't want to know how much this stupid bugger costs me a minute!--and I'll be sure to remember that you deserve a nice outing with dinner and sightseeing. Sound fair?"  
  
She flung herself at him then, and he caught her, holding her tight, half in happiness to have her in his arms, and half out of fear of letting her go. The call was going to be painful, and he didn't relish having to put her back together over the next few days, but if it was what she needed, he'd provide.  
  
Distress made him seek his mark upon her neck, and he bathed the light scars with his tongue for a moment in self-comfort. She was his, no matter what happened during this stupid phone call, she belonged to him-- with him! No one would hurt her and live!  
  
Her moan was airy, a breathless sound that brought his body to full attention. The demon stopped pacing, and instead raced to the front of his consciousness. Fighting for control, he pulled back, kissing her cheek before turning away to calm himself and pretend to be busy with the complicated phone.  
  
When his body was under relative control and the phone had been powered up, he hesitated, weighing once again the pros and cons of letting her make this phone call. In the end, she'd asked him, and he couldn't deny her anything she requested. With regret he lifted her from the desk and deposited her into a more comfortable chair, passing her the bulky handset.  
  
For some reason, even with Spike's agreement, Willow felt a sudden weight fall upon her as she took the phone into her hand. It wasn't that heavy, light for a piece of equipment that could send her voice up into space and back down to a telephone goddess knew how far away.  
  
She wanted to be brave, to convey the strength of her conviction in her actions, but she couldn't help hesitating, her finger poised over the number pad of the phone. Her throat felt suddenly dry, but she swallowed anyway, trying desperately to lubricate her throat and keep from coughing.  
  
Drawing in a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and closed her eyes to gather her courage. The gentle lips that touched her own were more comforting than anything. Soft as velvet, Spike kissed her, brushing his lips across her own again and again before moving them lightly across her cheek to her ear.  
  
"You don't have to do this, Willow. You don't need them anymore. I can understand wanting closure. Hell, that seems to be the story of my life sometimes, but they're not important anymore. You've made your decision to stay with me. Let them suffer. Let them worry and cry and feel alone. They deserve it, but you, you don't deserve to have to listen to them do those things when you talk to them. Leave them behind and stay here with me. It's time to be free of them Willow, we can be free together." His hands were still warm from the blood she'd given him weeks ago on that fateful night, the heat never leaving his body. Now his fingers were playing against the back of her neck, in a light grip that was at once possessive and enticing.  
  
As much as she didn't want to, as much as her body fought her, her mind won out and she shook her head. It almost hurt when Spike's presence over her retreated as he moved to lean back against the desk and left her with nothing but that cold phone in her hand.  
  
Willow's eyes sought his as she tried one last time to explain. "Please try to understand, this doesn't have anything to do with us. I'm doing this to finish it. No more responsibility, no more guilt. This will end it and I'll be free, just like you said."  
  
He didn't nod but Willow knew he understood. She didn't dare test her resolve any further, and blindly depressed the button that would make the connection live.  
  
For a few horribly quiet seconds, nothing came through the receiver. The dead sound of fate rung quietly before a sudden beep and the normal dial tone of a ringing phone came through. The rings were paced, but to her they sounded shorter than they should have been, as if the inevitable were streaking towards her faster than she could possibly hope to outrun it.  
  
When she heard the click, she realized she'd been holding her breath, and as she exhaled and the phone was lifted to someone's waiting ear, Willow's panicked eyes watched as Spike knelt down before her and rested a large hand on her knee. She was immediately calmer.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
The voice sounded old and weathered, as if it had fought the world and hadn't even stood a chance. Tired and drained, lacking in life and luster, completely and totally beaten-and it was her father.  
  
This time, Willow didn't hesitate.  
  
"Papa."  
  
So simple a word. For some it had meaning, and for others it didn't. Today, for Willow and the man on the other end of the call, it did.  
  
"W-Willow? Willow is that you?"  
  
She caught Spike's eye, held it as she spoke into the receiver and sealed her fate. "Yeah, Papa, it's me."  
  
"Oh my God, Willow." And through the despair and desperation, Willow heard the one thing no little girl ever wanted to admit her father was capable of doing-she heard her father begin to sob. "My girl.my baby, baby girl."  
  
Suddenly the enormity of the situation came to her as it never would have any other way. Her parents had left her alone again, something they always did, and yet this time things had gone horribly wrong. As far as they knew they'd arrived home-or maybe they'd received a phone call from the police, maybe even Xander-saying that she'd been kidnapped or even killed. They had no way of knowing what had happened to her and so they'd had to wait and hope, and in her father's case, pray.  
  
For over two months they'd known nothing, waiting and praying for her safe return. For over two months.they'd lived every parents nightmare.  
  
Suddenly, it was far too real.  
  
"Papa.oh Papa, I'm so sorry." Her tears soon matched the intensity of the ones her father wept. Again and again they spoke, both in broken phrases and tears that couldn't be stopped.  
  
She barely felt it when Spike lifted her into his arms and resettled her onto his lap as he replaced her in the chair. As she cried into the phone and her father matched her, Spike's large, comforting hands ran through her long hair and across her body; always reminding her that she was not alone.  
  
Through the tears and the painful sounds of her father's sobs, Willow knew that some part of her needed to recognize the man that now held her; to reassure him as he had her. Her free hand came up, her fingers lightly dancing across his check, and she knew she'd done the right thing when he nuzzled her palm.  
  
And then, almost as if the evil had somehow managed to invade their small little world, Willow heard her father's sobs abruptly halt as he drew in a sharp breath. She heard the phone shift and she knew, without asking, without hearing the first tell tale signs, her mother had just entered the room. She stiffened, her body going ridged, and no amount of comfort on Spike's part could ease the tightness.  
  
But something was oddly different. The voice, when she finally heard it, wasn't as sharp as she remembered it, wasn't as commanding as it had been two months ago. Like her father's, it sounded beaten and wary; and just as Willow thrilled to hear it, she felt the deepest sorrow as well.  
  
"Ira? Ira, what's wrong? Willow? It isn't Willow is it? Oh God, please tell me it isn't her! Ira! Ira, tell me it isn't Willow! Tell me it isn't her!"  
  
As her father's voice became soothing if not a bit rough, Willow closed her eyes against the pain of her mother's words. Could she hate her that much that Sheila Rosenburg would so hate the idea of her daughter calling on the phone?  
  
As her father spoke softly in the background of her ear, it was Spike that answer the question so easily written upon her face.  
  
"She's in denial, Pet. She thinks your dad's crying because you're dead." Later, Willow would understand how hard it was for him to tell her the truth rather than let her believe the horror of her mother.  
  
"Willow! Willow, who is that with you? Who's there? I heard a man's voice, Sheila!"  
  
"Oh God!"  
  
"Willow! Willow, you listen to Papa! Has that bastard hurt you, Willow? Has he done something to you?! Willow, tell me where you are and I'll come get you! I'll come right now! Wherever you are, it doesn't matter. Mamma and I aren't mad at you Willow. We love you so much, so, so much. We want to bring you home. Just tell me where you are, Princess and Papa will come get you. Willow, please tell me where you are."  
  
He'd broken towards the end, and Willow heard the pain her disappearance had caused him explode in the dark recesses of his voice.  
  
How she gathered her courage she had no idea. How she managed to open her mouth and begin the conversation she'd never be able to explain later. But she had to, and so she did.  
  
"I-I'm ok, Papa. I called because I didn't want you and moth-mamma to worry about me. I-I'm ok. I-I'm not hurt. I'm ok-no, I'm better than ok. Papa," on their own, her eyes came to rest in a sea of blue so familiar that she knew every fluctuation of color in them. "Papa, for the first time in my life.I'm happy. Really and truly happy." The smile on Spike's face was pure and true, and within it was the depth of his relief.  
  
She heard the sound of her father protesting, before a scuffle sounded and then suddenly, it wasn't her father anymore.  
  
"Willow, it's Mamma. Hunny, it's all right; everything is going to be ok. Sweetheart, I need you to listen to, Mommy now. I know that-that sometimes we've had our differences, but I want you to know that I love you. I love you so much. Hunny please tell me where you are, please. Papa.Papa told me you were happy, and-and that's a very good thing. We want you to be happy, but Willow you need to tell us where you are now. We've been so worried about you. The police, everyone thought you'd been- well it doesn't matter what they thought because I'm talking to you right now! Sweetheart, listen to me please, if, if you don't want us to come, that-that's ok, we understand. But Willow you have to tell us where you are; give us a phone number we can call you at. You've been gone for so long.so long without.without any contact.we thought, oh Willow we thought you were dead!"  
  
For once, the tears sounded sincere. For once the emotions sounded real. For once, her mother sounded utterly human.  
  
It was to the humanity that Willow responded.  
  
"Mamma. Mamma, I'm alright; I'm safe and happy. I know I scared you. I.had to work some things out for myself for a while and." she paused, looking at her lover for both support and to make him understand her next words. "Mamma, I don't expect you to understand this, you or Papa, but.I've.I'm in love Mamma. He's.amazing. He makes the world beautiful again, Mamma. He makes all the pain worth it. I love him so much, so much that sometimes he's all I see. Everything I've been through my entire life, all the hell and the suffering, it's worth it because of him. He-he's my savior, Mamma, my angel, even if he'd say otherwise."  
  
"Willow-" Panic was in Sheila Rosenburg's voice, and Willow moved quickly to stop it.  
  
"I know you're worried. I'm sorry I made you worry about me, really I am. I know you think something horrible has happened to me, that Spi- William tricked me somehow, but he didn't. For the first time in my life he's been completely honest with me. There aren't any lies between us, no half-truths. He treats me like a queen. I know what you're thinking, that he's brainwashed me, but he hasn't, really Mamma-"  
  
"Willow, he kidnapped you! You can't tell me that-"  
  
"Yes he did." She cut her mother off again. "He did, and to be honest with you, he was going to kill me." She heard her mother gasp and her father beg to know what was being said. "But he didn't, and for the first time in my life Mamma-the first time-I don't feel dead inside. William's the best thing that ever happened to me, Mamma, I love him, more than anything or anyone in the entire world, and he loves me back and we're going to be happy and together for a very, very long time." Leaning up, she brushed her lips against Spike's cheek, offering him a brilliant smile.  
  
Her father had somehow been briefed and had gotten back the phone.  
  
"Willow, I don't know what that man did to you, but I need you to listen to Papa-"  
  
"No." Where one minute she'd had her heart open and exposed she now had it guarded. Her voice was instantly colder her demeanor closed off so that Spike had to give her a loving squeeze to remind her that her father wasn't standing before her. "William didn't do anything to me but love me, and if you can't understand that then I really pity you.  
  
"And honestly Papa, I don't care what you think or what you want to say. William and I love each other, and he's taken care of me when no one else did. When you and mother left me for months on my own, he hasn't left my side since we left. He's not just kind and loving towards me, he believes in me, worships me just like I do him. I know you think he's done something to me, but you can just get that out of your head right now. We- "  
  
Suddenly an idea struck her, and her eyes widened as she turned to look up at Spike. She saw the question enter his eyes before she made the decision to just do what she thought was right. Besides, it wasn't like a lie-not exactly.  
  
"Besides Papa, William and I.we're married. We got married in a beautiful garden-"  
  
She expected the interruption.  
  
"You what?! Willow-"  
  
"And he's not Jewish. He's.um." she turned to look at Spike and blushed prettily.  
  
"Um, what religion are you anyway?"  
  
He laughed, the sound strong and proud, filled with mirth, acceptance, and love. Spike smiled evilly then. "Well that depends. Do you want to make him mad or tell him the truth?" Willow put a mock stern expression on her face and he laughed again. "Oh fine. You can tell him I, WAS, Protestant."  
  
Willow smiled at him as she heard her father shout on the other end of the phone. Her smile was coy and she gave him a soft wink as she pressed her hand, first to her lips and then to his. He returned the gesture in kind, offering her support.  
  
"Papa, getting upset won't change anything. William and I are happy and together and that's all that matters to us. I called to let you know that I was alright and that you didn't have to worry about me anymore-"  
  
Her father's voice was hard and angry when he spoke. "Not worry! Not worry! You've been missing for two months, Willow. Mamma and I had no idea where you were, no idea if you were alive or dead! You didn't call to let us know anything. Xander found your jacket in the park with blood on it, and the police kept telling us to give up hope. Do you have any idea what the people at home have been going through?  
  
"Willow, please, all we want to know is where you are and to see you. That's it. That's not so much to ask, now is it? We just want to see with our own eyes that you're alright, that your.that your husband's treating you right. Willow, if you won't do it for your mom and I, then do it for Xander. He's not doing well, Willow. He was so worried about you all the time, he dropped out of school and.your mother and I think he might need psychiatric help. Willow, if he could just see you, just talk to you, I know that he'll get better. Willow please, if your so happy then don't deny the rest of us the same happiness. If you are happy then I respect that, you're-you're old enough to make your own decisions, but I'm still your father, and it's my job to make sure you really are safe, that that man hasn't hurt you."  
  
Something was wrong with Xander.  
  
Might need psychiatric help.  
  
Xander could get better if she talked to him.  
  
He's suffering.  
  
She didn't even have to think about her decision.  
  
"H-how is Xander now? You'll tell him that I'm alright, won't you? You'll tell him I'm ok and that he doesn't have to worry about me anymore, right? Papa?"  
  
"Willow, hearing it from me won't help. He needs to hear it from you, he needs to see you. Princess, just tell Papa where you are and we'll bring Xander up to see you. We'll bring all your friends to see you. Even your friend from that band, and Buffy, and I promise to make sure your mother calls her Buffy and not Bunny."  
  
He kept talking, but Willow couldn't hear him anymore, Spike had taken the phone from her. With the mouth piece covered, Spike forced her to look at him.  
  
"Luv, what's wrong?"  
  
The shock was plain on her face. "It's Xander, he's ill. Spike, I-I have to talk to him, I have to let him know that I'm alright. My dad says that Xander's gone crazy, that he thinks he might need real help. Spike, he's my best friend, I can't just leave him like that, I can't, and I won't! I have to call him, I have to let him know that I'm alright!"  
  
"Shhhhhh." Gentle fingers brushed against her cheek as her father continued to talk into the phone. "Red, your parents talked about the dog and the Slayer. You know that if you go and see them you'll have to see the both of them as well, don't think for a minute the bitch-both of them- will say home when they know their whipping girl's come out into the open."  
  
Willow shook her head. "I can't tell them where I am-I still don't know myself! But Xander needs me, Spike. If our positions were reversed, Xander would come, he'd come and see me, no matter what it cost him. I have to see him, Spike, if he needs me I can't abandon him."  
  
"Like he abandoned you?" Came the cold and hard reply.  
  
Wincing Willow looked away. "Maybe he did. I don't know anymore. Things were so confusing for me then. But the fact is that I'm better now, I'm grounded, and I have you. I have everything that I need, but I won't abandon my best friend. I won't leave him like that, I can't, I care about him too much. And, I don't think-I know that if Xander knew how bad I'd gotten, he wouldn't ever have let me go that long, he would have done something."  
  
"Willow-"  
  
"I mean it, Spike, I won't leave him like that!" She was yelling now, and the silence told her that her father had heard the shout and was now straining to hear what she was saying. For his part Spike was outwardly calm. Drawing in a deep breath, Willow tried to calm herself. "You might not understand the way I'm explaining it, so think of it like this, if it were Drusilla, wouldn't you go after her to make sure she was alright? Wouldn't you do everything in your power to make her as comfortable as you could? If he's that.upset because of me, because he's worried about me, and all I have to do is talk to him, then I have to, I have to do that for him. Please, Spike, please try to understand, to trust me."  
  
"It's not that I don't trust you, and it's not that I don't understand. I know what you're trying to do because I've done it myself before and it almost always backfires, just like this conversation with your parents is backfiring. But if it'll make you happy, you can arrange through your parents to contact Xander."  
  
Overcome, Willow squealed and wrapped her arms around Spike. "Thank you, thank you so much!"  
  
But Spike shook his head. "Don't thank me, Luv. I think this is a rotten idea."  
  
She smiled before she kissed him. "I know, that's why I'm thanking you."  
  
Grabbing the phone, she pressed it to her ear and began her demands. "Papa, I have to talk to Xander, but I can't tell you where I am, or give you any contact information." Her father tried to protest, but she just continued on right over the top of him until he fell silent. "What I am going to do is make arrangements with you to call back. But you have to make sure Xander is there-just Xander, no one else, none of my other friends. They're not my friends anymore, Papa, only Xander maters to me anymore.  
  
"Willow, hunny, can't you just give me a phone number to call you back at, just something so that I know I wasn't dreaming and that I really am talking to my little girl. I don't think you realize how hard this was for your mother and I. We've given up all our speaking engagements, your mother lost her book deal and we've done nothing but sit by the phone and tell people that you're not dead. Willow, we need to be able to talk to you, to tell you that we love you and that we want you to come home. Please, Willow, don't deny us that. Just give us a phone number, we won't even call if you don't want us too, but please, just.just let us have a number from you so we know that our little girl is safe."  
  
The tears were in her eyes again, and even when she fought them, reminding herself of all the horrible things they'd put her through as a little girl, she couldn't help remember that they were her parents, couldn't stop remembering that she loved them.  
  
"Just a second, Papa."  
  
Turning her head, Willow looked up at Spike. "Is there a number that I could give them. They promised not to call, but just something that they can have in case.well, in case of an emergency I guess." She shrugged, cocking her head to the side to show she didn't even know for sure what she meant, and Spike knew she didn't know if she really wanted them to have the number or just felt trapped.  
  
Then a brilliant idea came to him. He smiled before nodding his head. "Luv, just tell your father that he can leave a message with the man that picks up at the other end of this number," and he gave her Angel's cell phone number. If Angel had been telling the truth and really wanted to patch things up with him, then he could start by being his secretary; they'd talk about promotions in a century or two.  
  
Nodding, Willow relayed the phone number to her father and then tried to end the conversation. "Papa, I have to go now. I want you to know that I love you very much, and that I'll call you back in one week, same time. You'll make sure that Xander's there, won't you?"  
  
"Willow, mamma and I promise that we'll be here and I'll do my best to get Xander to come. I'm going to tell him that I talked to you, and I'm going to tell the police that you've been in contact with us, but I need to talk to William first. Put him on, Willow, I want to talk to this boy that's managed to steal my daughter from me." His voice was warm but filled with steel and Willow was instantly nervous.  
  
"Papa, I don't think that's a good idea."  
  
"Willow, I don't want to do this, but he's taken you a way for two months, and you mamma told me that he threatened to kill you. Now, I don't know what's going on, but I have to talk to him, if you don't let me, I'll tell the police that you were kidnapped and are being held against your will--"  
  
"That's not true!" At her outburst, Spike's hand came up to touch the back of her neck, his fingers massaging gently while his other hand reached out for the phone.  
  
"It's alright, Willow. Let me talk to him."  
  
"But--"  
  
But Spike just shook his head. "Hand it over, Red. I'll talk to your father and straighten things out." Reluctantly she handed over the phone, but was surprised when he gently pushed her off his lap. "Do me a favor, wait for me in the library. I'll be right there." When she tried to protest, tried to explain that she needed to hear this, he just shook his head. "I'll take care of this, Willow. Just be a good girl and wait for me. We'll go on a picnic when I'm done. In fact, why don't you gather the things together. I'll meet you in the kitchen to help you put together dinner." Leaning up, Spike gave her a quick kiss and a tap on the bottom before escorting her out the door of the study.  
  
When he got back to the phone, he lifted the receiver and made his immediate demands. "'Ello, Mr. Rosenburg, I should start by thanking you for asking to speak with me, Willow wouldn't have wanted me to talk to you."  
  
"Now you listen to me you--"  
  
"Actually, I have quite a bit to say to you, but not right now. Put you wife on the phone. She and I have a lot to talk about, starting with drugging a little girl, then killing her kitten and making her feel afraid her whole life. I'll talk to you about being a pussy whipped, child neglecting bastard when I'm finished with her. Then we can talk about legal actions against the both of you concerning Willow's upbringing that could put a damper on both of your future speaking engagements and book deals."  
  
On the other end of the phone was only silence.  
  
Twenty minutes later Spike emerged from the study to find Willow sitting against the wall across from the door.  
  
"What did you say to them?" She sounded small and a little afraid, but behind the fear was a strength to know what had been discussed, and she wasn't taking "nothing important" as an answer.  
  
"I basically accused them of child abuse and neglect, and told them if they called the police and suggested kidnapping charges it would make you sad and I'd take them to court over the whole thing, dragging their names through the mud. Your mother immediately relented, but your father was willing to do anything to get you back, so I then told him that you and I were married--nice call by the way--and that as your husband I had a lot more legal rights over you than they did at this point, but that more importantly you were happy with me. Your father didn't disagree, but he told me, that if I didn't let you call him at the prearranged time, he wouldn't hesitate to track me down and kill me. Even if he is a sissy bastard, he at least cares about you--a few decades late, but better late than never."  
  
With eyes a mixture of sadness and relief, Willow nodded before standing and walking towards him. Rising onto her toes, her hands wrapped behind his neck to pull him down into a warm kiss. She was a collection of a thousand emotions, ones she couldn't yet categorize. He knew how bad it was when she took him by the hand and pulled him towards the stairs leading to the third floor.  
  
He stopped her at the bottom of the staircase. "Luv, the picnic?"  
  
But she just shook her head. "No picnic, I'm not hungry. Just take me upstairs. I need you to hold me for a while, maybe the rest of the night, I'm not sure yet."  
  
Smiling a soft smile, Spike nodded before placing his hand at the small of her back and guiding her up the stairs.  
  
Once in their room, he propelled her towards the closet before removing her clothing and carrying her to the bed. Their lovemaking was soft and slow, filled with promises of togetherness and the eternity.  
  
That night, Spike held her tightly, listening to her silent tears and the muffled murmur of her heart.  
  
____________________________________________________________________________ _________________  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
For those of you panicking, DON'T! This is still a W/S story...with a few things coming up in later chapters to shake things up...I wouldn't want it to get boring.  
  
From this point on, the story will--every now and then--jump to Angel and Xander, to explain their future roles.  
  
Whispered Fire is now the first book of the Fire Trilogy. Whispered Fire will continue to detail the amazing relationship between Willow and Spike, and this is most definitely their book. The next two books will also feature Willow and Spike as the main couple, so don't worry, I haven't abandoned the super couple.  
  
I am looking for possible titles for the next two books; the only requirement is that they must contain the word "Fire". I look forward to hearing from everyone! Oh, and if anyone wants to flame the period chapters, go ahead, I'm in a good mood to write long replies ^__^  
  
This story will continue to be update here under a new rating of "R" because in all honestly, it'd probably be an "R".in France. But the Internet is multinational, so there! The word "ADULT!!!" has been added to the summary to clear up any confusions about the rating.  
  
Most importantly, and I hope everyone stuck around for this. The Fire Trilogy, has a multitude of pathways it can take and I want to hear what readers really want. Therefore, the following pairings are a consideration for the series, please, everyone that reads this story make a choice by posting a review with your vote, not only does it make me feel better to know people are reading, but it'll also tells me what you want to read. This is important, and I'd appreciate cooperation from every reader.  
  
Spike/Willow Spike/Willow , Angel(us)/Xander Spike/Willow/Angel(us) Spike/Willow/Angel(us)/Xander Spike/Willow , Angel(us)/Spike , Willow/Xander , Willow/Angel(us) , Spike/Xander basically a mix but no three or foursomes. Other, then explain what you mean.  
  
And for the last time...WILLOW IS NOT A VAMPIRE!  
  
YET!!! 


	16. I Swear Officer, The Magic Made Me Do It...

I Swear Officer, The Magic Made Me Do It!  
  
Willow could barely contain her excitement. She was dressed in a brocade floral gown that would have fit much better in the mid 19th century, with it's empire waist and lace sleeves, all of the most stunning cream color; and upon her hands were a pair of matching lace wrist gloves. Her hair had been curled and teased until it crowned her head in a cascade of ruby tresses that framed her face and left tiny tendrils to draw the eye to the line of her perfect spin and lace enhance breasts. On her feet she wore cream and gold slippers, each with a diamond teardrop at the top. Diamonds adorned her, a set of drop earrings, and encrusted choker, two diamond barrettes in the shape of perfect butterflies, a bracelet, and a matching anklet. But the most beautiful piece was the ring. A single one-carrot princess cut diamond, flanked by two equally cut half diamonds; but it was the colors that made them so fantastic. The center was canary in color, and the two flanking stones blue diamonds. When Spike had presented the final gift, she'd shed happy tears as he placed the beautiful piece on her ring finger.  
  
"So they know when we walk into the room, you belong to me."  
  
Spike had asked that they wait until the weekend, saying the natives would be more fun to watch if they waited until then; to Willow it was a few more days to add to a rather long wait.  
  
Now, with a fresh layer of make-up that made her eyes smoky and her skin deathly pale--she'd wanted to fit in beside Spike--Willow was ready. Sitting in the conservatory, she breathed in a deep breath as she watched the Koi jump to the surface to catch the food she lazily threw for them. It was six o'clock and the sun had set not twenty minutes ago, Spike was making a last second phone call and then they would be off.  
  
The pressure of the room suddenly changed and Willow looked up in time to see Spike push back one of the rather boisterous ivy tendrils that blanketed the ceiling and cascaded down. She stood, the smile on her face wide as she did a little twirl for him knowing the magic of the pool and the candle light would make her skin glow and the diamonds twinkle.  
  
The growl Spike offered was appreciative and Willow twirled back to face him, giggling softly.  
  
"You know Luv, we could always just go tomorrow, I mean, you do look good enough to eat." And he advanced towards her with that predatory gleam in his eye.  
  
Squealing, Willow raced around the pool as best she could, hiking up the floor length gown. "Stop right there, Spike!" Holding out her hand she faced her smiling lover. "You can.um, eat me, all you want next week, and until then, it's time to feed Willow." Realizing what she'd said she groaned, "I don't think that came out right at all."  
  
He laughed, moving lightening fast to scoop her into his arms and carry her from the conservatory. "You know, I think you said it perfectly." And he made his point by tracing his tongue along the now barely visible bit marks. He'd told her earlier that they'd be there forever, even when she was turned, but that suited her just find. It was comforting to know, reminding her more than a simple piece of jewelry, who loved her.  
  
Down the marble hallway, past candle flames and stunning pieces of artwork, past Persian rugs and wood paneling, he carried her. At the door he set her down, kissing her softly, his thumbs moving to frame her face while his fingers worked lovingly into the back of her neck. When he pulled away, Willow swooned and Spike's look could only be considered possessive.  
  
"Ready for that tour?"  
  
She nodded, snuggling under his arm as he opened the door and led her down the stone stairs to the circular gravel driveway and the Rolls Royce waiting there; Matt dressed in proper chauffeur attire. "It feels like I've been waiting a lifetime to see this place." He squeezed her shoulders, helping her into the car, before nodding to Matt and then getting in himself.  
  
The inside of the expensive automobile was spacious but Willow snuggled next to Spike anyway, wanting to share the experience of her new discovery. He'd told her yesterday, that the drive to the closest town was nearly forty-five minutes, so she was ready and willing to snuggle for a long while.  
  
Surprisingly, the trip was relatively quiet. The silence was comfortable for them and had been for the last month or so. Willow learned that Spike, while often hyperactive with his minions, preferred warm nights by the fire and plenty of time to relax. He was well read and enjoyed learning about as much as he loved everything else; for him, life was filled with possibilities, but she had a feeling that it hadn't always been like that for him, and she waited for the time when he'd tell her more about his past.  
  
But now wasn't that time, and as the coast came in and out of view, Willow watched it pass as she leaned against Spike's shoulder, occasionally receiving a kiss for her patience.  
  
A turn came into the road and just over the crest of the hill, Willow saw the bright lights of the town against the backdrop of the twilight. It struck her as odd that the town would be so small and again she racked her brain trying to figure out where they could be. She let out a surprised squeak when a dark silk scarf was suddenly tied over her eyes, Spike's sultry voice whispering in her ear, "No peaking; don't want to ruin the surprise."  
  
When the car finally stopped, Willow was breathing hard in anticipation. She grasped a hold of Spike's hand tightly, intertwining their fingers as he stepped out of the car before helping her. Around her the city was alive with sounds. Boisterous music could be heard in the street, muffled by the building that housed it. She could hear voices but couldn't make out any words as Spike helped her over the uneven pavement. The smells were strong and she nearly gasped when she realized the air was heavy with the smell of animals.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
He squeezed her hand. "One minute, Red, then you'll understand."  
  
She nodded, allowing Spike to help her onto the sidewalk. At the door to some establishment, he paused, and Willow realized that the rowdy music was coming from the place they were entering.  
  
The air was warm inside and the lights were bright, the first electric lights she'd seen in almost two months. Thick pipe smoke filled the air and Willow breathed it in deeply, remembering the smells from her childhood and her great-grandfather's pipe. But as they stood just inside the doorway, the sounds seemed to quiet, and even the music--which Willow realized was a live band--died down to nothing as the inhabitants took in the new arrivals.  
  
What a pair they must make, she in her too old fashioned dress and diamonds, Spike in his black boots, leather pants and blood red shirt, not to mention the white blond hair. Oh, and there was the fact that she was blindfolded, mustn't forget that.  
  
It was nearly silent when Spike leaned in and whispered in her ear. "Ready, Willow?" She gave an emphatic nod, and suddenly the blindfold was removed and the bright electric lights were burning into her vision, making her close her eyes and blink, squinting to adjust.  
  
What came into slow focus was something out of a fantasy novel.  
  
It was a bar, filled to the brim with people from all walks of life. Old time saloon mirrors hung behind a middle aged, bald man with a mustache who was slowly drying a class with a red rag. Hundreds of bottles lined the wooden shelves, while just as many glasses littered the polished wood bar top. A bar maid dressed in a long skirt and a peasant blouse eyed her quizzically as she whispered to a patron who looked like his eyes were going to bug out of his head. Looking down, she saw that the floors were wood as well, and the dozens of tables that were scattered around were wood too. Everything was wood, with metal to twinkle in the light that came from the large fireplace against the far right wall. The band to the far left seemed to be playing old wood instruments, some of which Willow had never seen before. In all it looked like an old time bar from the eighteenth century.  
  
Turning, she looked up at Spike, who only smiled and cocked his head towards the barkeeper. "You wanted to know, Luv. Why don't you ask him?"  
  
Wide-eyed and a bit shy, Willow made her way across the bar. The crowd opened for her, letting her pass as the entire establishment watched her progress until she came to the counter.  
  
The bald man seemed a bit stunned but decidedly more relaxed at the same time, as if he knew something like this was going to happen but hadn't expected it tonight or for a long while. She cleared her throat and blushed prettily as the man nodded once to her.  
  
"Um, this may sound like a very strange question, but, um, could you tell me where I am please?"  
  
The bartender's green eyes rose to look back at Spike before returning to hers. When he spoke, his voice was gruff and filled with the accent of the newly discovered place that was her home.  
  
"Ay Miss, ya be in the famous bar, The Scourge of Europe, and this here is Connor, Connor, Ireland."  
  
She gasped, taking a step away from the bar and the man who'd just informed her that she was much farther away from home than Oregon or Washington, USA. Eyes wide, she swung around, locking her eyes across the room with Spike's. The bastard was smiling like the Cheshire Cat.  
  
In the silence, she spoke to Spike, ten feet away. "We're in Ireland." He nodded, his eyes twinkling. "We're on an island, half way across the world." He nodded again. "We're in Ireland, half way across the world from Sunnydale, living in a huge mansion that's been there for the last two hundred years." Again, he nodded. "Oh. My. God."  
  
Her lace-gloved hands came to her face, covering her mouth as she gasped once again.  
  
With a roar of laughter, Spike tipped his head back before settling his eyes on her again. "So, is my Red Queen happy?"  
  
Squealing she turning two tight little circles before flying across the room and launching herself into Spike's outstretched arms. He lifted her, twirling her around in the air as they laughed together.  
  
Ireland, they were in the true land of magic, and around her it was as if a barrier had dropped and she could suddenly feel the ebb and flow of the currents under her feet. The magic warmed her, filling her soul with a sense of belonging and rightness. She was home, not just because Spike was here and she with him, but because the magic was open and free to her here, begging suddenly to be claimed and used, to be commanded.  
  
He brought her down, letting the full contact of her body slide down his until she was on her feet. Then he was plundering her mouth, loving her and all the excitement that came with being mortal and discovering something she never thought she'd see.  
  
When he released her mouth he called over the top of her head to the watching crowd. "In celebration of my Queen's coming out party, drinks for the rest of the night are on the house!" A roaring cheer filled the room and Willow buried her face in Spike's chest to escape the noise as much to breathe in his scent and ground herself against the flowing magical tides. The magic was intense here, as if it were a power spot. It overwhelmed her as much as it comforted and amazed her.  
  
When the energy finally settled down, her mind took action to analyze what she'd learned. She wasn't even in her own country. Spike had somehow managed to spirit her thousands of miles away, across an ocean, to bring her to a remote mansion.all because she'd thanked him for killing her. Now, two months later she was mated to a master vampire and living the last two years of her natural life before her mate became her sire and brought her into his world.  
  
It was a lot to take in, but as Spike's arm came about her shoulders and guided her towards a booth hidden in the shadows of the fire with the words "Owner's Table" carved into the wood above it, Willow didn't feel so overwhelmed. Spike was with her and that's all that mattered.  
  
He slid them both into one side, careful to make sure that she was shifted so that the crowd could see her but not bother her. Brushing an escaped wisp of hair, he kissed her rose lips before nuzzling behind her ear. "Still glad I told you?"  
  
She nodded, her eyes rolling up and closing as his voice pushed cold air against her sensitive skin. "How did you do it? How did you get me so far away so quickly?"  
  
Pulling away, he smiled down at her. "A vampire has to have some secrets, Luvie, let me keep this one. Besides, if you're a good girl, I might tell you someday." And he winked, kissing her nose. She considered protesting, but the music was starting up again, and in truth, it wasn't that important anyway. She was here with the man she loved, that was enough for now. But later, she resolved, she was going to pick his brain until he begged to tell her.  
  
She wasn't all that startled when the bartender himself came to take their order. Spike told him to bring a variety of drinks for her so she could figure out what she liked, and to bring a bottle of the blood wine in the cellar.  
  
She didn't even question the fact that Spike owned a bar, something about that fact just seemed logical and fitting. He seemed at home here, as if he'd spent a good deal of time in bars throughout the centuries, and knowing Spike, he probably had. But what did surprise her was that the bartender, Avery, knew Spike was a vampire. When she asked, Spike just shrugged his shoulders. "Told you already, Red, not everyone's afraid of vampires. Avery keeps bar for the normals upstairs, and down below, in the basement, his son Jacob keeps bar for the demons."  
  
Stunned by that statement, Willow asked, "You mean that right now, below us at this very second, there are demons?" She suppressed a sudden shiver.  
  
Spike roared with laughter again and Willow's eyes brightened at seeing him so happy as her heart slowed down just a tad. Old habits were hard to break. "Cor Luv, of course, this is The Scourge of Europe after all. Think I'd own a bar where only humans could go? I don't bloody well think so."  
  
He should have known better. The twinkle entered Willow's eyes a moment before she spoke her request out loud. "Show me. Take me downstairs. I only got to see Willy's for a second before Buffy started trashing the place. Show me what it looks like, show me what it's like to be in a room full of demons and not be afraid." She took his hand, bringing it to her chest as she locked her emerald eyes with his sapphire ones.  
  
In true Spike form, he balked at her request. "Are you insane?" He turned in the booth, using his body to block the crowd from their discussion. "Willow, it's disgusting down there, chaos demons and all that, you don't want to go down there."  
  
But Willow just shook her head. "Think about it, this is an amazing opportunity for me. Spike, I've always been the weak one, always, but with you, I could walk in there and practically own the bar!" She was nearly vibrating in her seat with excitement, but she settled down instantly at the softening look she saw steal over her lover's face.  
  
A sudden charm entered Spike's voice then, making it whisper soft as he touched her arm gently. "You do own the place, Willow, all that is mine is yours. You do realize that, don't you? That I live to love you? That you are my world, all the best parts of it?" Then, without waiting for an answer he brushed his lips against hers bringing her in close to him, his hands locking around her body. None the less, Spike pulled back before she could answer him, shifting out of the booth and pulling her out with him. "If you insist on going down there, I won't stop you, but don't be mad when you get slime on your slippers." She smiled and nodded, walking beside him as they moved into the back of the bar.  
  
At the end of a dimly lit hallway that smelled of spilled alcohol, they came to a doorway. Through it, was a storeroom and behind a rack of aging wine was another set of stairs. Willow looked questioningly down the pitch-black stairwell to the crack of light at the bottom. "Um, Spike?"  
  
Without another word, he lifted her into his arms, stepping into the passageway and closing the wine rack behind them. He navigated the stairs effortlessly and Willow couldn't help but sigh wistfully. "You know, I bet night vision's the best part of being a vampire."  
  
Spike chuckled. "Naw, the x-ray visions much better."  
  
She stiffened. "Vampire's don't have x-ray vision..do they?" Spike laughed all the way down the stairs.  
  
At the bottom, right before he opened the door, he nuzzled her throat, running his tongue across the twin puncture marks. "Don't stray away from me in there. Stay by my side and keep your arm around my waist. And no matter what, don't contradict me. Things in Europe aren't the same as they are in Sunnydale. Back there, I'm part of the Scourge of Europe, known only to a few of the smart people; but here, I'm a legend, and that comes with a lot of power."  
  
She nodded in the darkness, knowing that he was looking right at her. "I'll be good. You can trust me."  
  
"I know." And with that, he opened the door and walked through, once again letting Willow's body slide down his as they took in the sights.  
  
Amazingly, the bar below was larger and more packed than the bar above. Demons of every shape and color abounded here, and just as above they all stared and grew silent at the new arrivals. The massive room was dark, but much better lit than what she could remember of Willy's, and Willow fought every instinct she had not to show her fear.  
  
But a strange thing happened in the half second she stood afraid--the magic that had settled back into the crevices of the universe surged forward, filling her body like a sponge. Suddenly she was warm and confident, filled with a power as ageless as the universe and more powerful than time. Her body relaxed with her mind, and as it did, her grip on Spike became less about fear and more about identification. She was a human girl, standing beside a member of the legendary Scourge of Europe. By her position alone she was powerful, and that power was fast growing addictive.  
  
Her body softened, molding itself into the lines and curves of her lover. Her long pale arms came around him, caressing him lightly as she stood in the gaze of nearly a hundred demons. At the direction of the magic, her head tipped down slightly even as her eyes lifted up, peaking coyly from beneath long dark lashes. She wet her lips, knowing that the room followed the slow progress that pink muscle made across her blood red lips. No longer Willow Rosenburg, she was something else entirely--a temptress hanging off the arm of one of the most feared vampires in history. She wasn't just a human girl anymore, she was the woman of a vampire, a witch in training, a Queen on the rise to power--and this was her first night out on the town.  
  
When Spike moved, it was as if he'd compelled her body to go as well, because they moved in perfect synch, as if they were of the same mind. In her floor length gown, she seemed to glide across the floor as Spike moved towards the bar.  
  
Emeralds shone from behind smoky eyes that spoke of long nights of wild sex, while her body moved fluidly, following the flow of magic around her and the demon at her side. At the bar they stopped, and she snuggled against Spike's side, moaning subsonically as his hand caressed her lower back suggestively.  
  
She smiled once to the bartender before tipping her chin back, exposing the length of her long neck and the twin marks she wore more proudly than the ring upon her finger. She belonged here, with the legend by her side--all that he owned she did as well.  
  
Crystal blue eyes locked with hers a moment before those perfect lips descended to devoured hers. The kiss was hungry and telling, reminding Willow that he was no longer her poet, but her demon, encompassing all the rights and privileges that came with being a demi-god. When he pulled back, his eyes flashed golden even as he offered her a sultry smile.  
  
His right hand left Willow's waist and came up to shake hands with the young barkeep, the move crushing her against his chest in that way that said she belonged to him. "Avery, I trust things are running smoothly."  
  
The boy seemed a bit young to be serving alcohol, but Willow reasoned it didn't much matter when serving to demons. "Y-yes sir, everything's going fine. It's good ta be seeing you again, sir."  
  
Spike smiled in full business mode. "You too, Avery. I saw your father upstairs, says everything's going well."  
  
"Yes sir. Customers are still coming ta The Scourge of Europe, and we be happy to serve 'em." The boy smiled before glancing once again at the siren being held by his employer.  
  
Spike rose his voice just enough so that the whole assembly of demons could hear him. "This is my mate, Red. Red, be a good girl and say hello."  
  
Willow lifted her eyes and blinked a few times for effect before slowly extending her lace-covered hand. Offering a coquettish smile, she spoke in an almost dreamy voice. "A pleasure to me you, Avery."  
  
"Very nice ta meet ya, Miss. Can I be gettin' ya anythin'?"  
  
She made a show of looking around behind the bar, her eyes gliding about the colored bottles. "No thank you, Avery. I'll wait until I'm back upstairs." Her voice was velvet seduction as pure as crystal. There were no nervous twitches to her body or cracks to her tone, she was poised and cunning, fit for a future vampire Queen.  
  
She felt the call of that title flit through her body and cause a shiver of anticipation. The magic was intoxicating and Willow drank it greedily, eager to share her enjoyment for this new found power with the demon by her side. How she'd missed the magic all this time she didn't know, but now that she'd found it, she wouldn't let it escape her again.  
  
Spike leaned down towards her ear, the vibrations from his growl sending shivers down her spine. "You're such a good girl, Red. Remind me to bite extra hard tonight."  
  
She gasped, burying her face against his chest as her body shook with a sudden needy shiver. The magic was making her heady while the demon with the poet's face was driving her insane with desire. She felt his hand come around her hip to press possessively against her lower abdomen. She belonged at his side, to him and only him. She was owned, and cherished all at the same time.  
  
"Something wrong, little one?" That mocking tone was in his voice so that Willow had to hold back the next shiver to save face.  
  
"Nothing I can't cover up," she said bravely, that coy expression still in her eyes. "You on the other hand are going to have an obvious problem when I move away from your crotch." She emphasized slyly, rubbing her hip against his obvious erection.  
  
Oblivious to the demons surrounding them, Spike's eyes flashed and remained golden, his features morphing into those of the demon itself. "Lots of ways to fix the problem, Red, lots of ways with lots of blood. You game?" He brought his fangs to nip under her chin.  
  
And suddenly, she knew the game, the rules, and who was going to win. This wasn't about Spike showing off, it was about her. His demon was setting her up to show everyone in the room that she wasn't just a weak little human, but an emerging Queen. This wasn't about Spike dominating her, it was about her dominating Spike and showing the other demons just how much fun she was going to cause upon her turning.  
  
So she did the only thing she could under the circumstances. With a quick twist that left her ruby trestles flying in the wind, she turned and swept away from him, moving back towards the doorway and the freedom of this place. Once there, she turned her head, giving her lover a come hither look before blowing a kiss to Avery and disappearing up the stairs.  
  
She hadn't taken two steps past the wine rack when Spike caught her about the waist and hauled her back into a corner. Gold flecks floated in a sea of blue as he advanced, and Willow held her ground and her arms wide to receive him.  
  
His kisses were hard and commanding, just as his hands were as they lifted her off the ground to deposit her on the edge of a tower of wooden crates. Then his hand were everywhere, kneading her breasts through her silk gown before curling his fingers around the back of her neck and demanding her compliance.  
  
When he took too long, she wrapped her legs around his hips, locking her ankles and dragging him against her liquid body. She cried out as his hand found its way under the folds of fabric, and her impatience had her scrabbling to help him pull the fabric up before moving quickly to undo the buttons of his pants.  
  
She needed this. After the use of such powerful magic she needed to temper it, needed to expel it from herself so that she could understand it, and enable herself to take in even more next time. She felt powerful, desirable, and devious, able to command the hoards of demons that sat so smugly beneath the surface. She belonged to that word as much as her own, and with more exposure, she'd belong to the darkness even more.  
  
The magic was a living thing that arched between them as Spike entered her. He was savage in his claiming, but careful not to leave a single mark on the flawless fabric of her gown. Willow let it happen, giving herself to the feelings of submission that felt so perfect after having so much power. To Spike she could submit, to him alone she could bend and break.  
  
At their climax he struck, burying his fangs into the twin scars upon her neck, drawing blood and feasting on her life and what remained of the magic. As he closed the wounds he stroked her back, her breasts, and arms, as if he couldn't get enough of the feel of her.  
  
Willow closed her eyes, riding the wave of pleasure that always followed their coupling. She sighed deeply when he brought their lips together, thankful that she was still seated upon the crates, not sure she could stand at the moment.  
  
"You're the most beautiful creature I've ever seen." Spike sighed, brushing chaste kisses over her face. "You were so beautiful down there. Gods below, Willow, you were born to be a Queen."  
  
She smiled at the compliment, nuzzling his neck before dropping a few kisses below his ear. "Not 'a Queen' Spike, just your Queen. I never imagined the power could be so.incredible. It seems strange, like it shouldn't have affected me so much, I mean, people get power all the time."  
  
Spike shook his head as he went about straightening her clothes for her. "You've no doubt felt the magic of the place. The magic attracts the demons, and even those with a little training can sense it. You're human, easily swayed by power magic, that's why so many humans seek power, it's one of the few magics that mortals can sense. But you've dabbled in the arts before, and the magic sensed that, it was drawn to you, it sought you out. Don't worry about being overwhelmed, you know as well as I do, sex is an amazing grounding technique." And he punctuated his point with a kiss before lifting her from the crates.  
  
Once again on her feet, Willow snuggled under her lover's arm before walking with him back into the bar. But the noise and the crowds were soon overwhelming, and without so much as making it back to the table, Willow asked to leave.  
  
So they fled into the night, walking the streets with no destination in mind. They passed countless shops, and every now and then Spike would point out some interesting fact or bit of history associated with something they passed.  
  
At a cobblestone square Spike stopped, before taking her from the sidewalk into the middle of the deserted street. The moon was high tonight, and even though it was close to midnight, she could see him clearly.  
  
His voice was hushed when he spoke. "I was standing right here the first time I met Darla. Angelus had sensed her coming this way and had gone out to greet her. Back then it was only he and I, and to be honest, I was a bit jealous of her. You see, Angelus adored her, love is too strong, but he idolized her, everything he did, the name he made for himself, was all a way of making her proud of him. He never let that stand in his way, and if she'd tried to go against him, I'm sure he'd've killed her easily, but she was like a mother to him, and he cared about her opinion of him.  
  
"Back then, we only owned the bar, but the idea for the mansion came to Angelus the night we met Darla. She knew I was there, I guess Angelus did too, but I thought I was being pretty clever stealing into the night to track my own Sire. I was only a decade or two old back then, and Drusilla was still three quarters of a century away.  
  
"I remember thinking, the chit wasn't much to look at." Spike stopped, scoffing at the memory. "Darla was Childe to the Master himself, a mean bastard even back then, she deserved a whole lot more respect then I was willing to give her." He looked down at Willow and gave her shoulders a squeeze. "Darla wasn't a Queen, she was too much like the males of our species. She killed for sport and never tried to blend in, she was in it for the power of the kill, not the power of hunt.  
  
"Back then, Angelus greeted her with kisses that made me want to stake the bitch myself. But she laughed that womanly laugh and batted her eyelashes a few times to make sure he was paying attention. Then she attacked me. I was hiding up there, behind what used to be a bell tower. It's laughable to think that I could have fought against her, but I tried anyway." His voice became wistful, and Willow held her breath, hoping he'd continue.  
  
"She wasn't trying to kill me, just teach me a lesson. She knew I was Angelus' Childe, hell the whole of Europe knew by then. She had me pretty well pounded when Angelus struck." He looked down at her and smiled before looking up at the moon. "You should have seen him, Willow. He was power personified. Every punch was solid and every kick connected, and he wasn't just fighting her for the hell of it, he was fighting her for me. Leaping into the fight like that, it showed that I was worth something to him, not to be treated like some minion, but the Childe of a legend.  
  
"Darla figured it out right quick and ended the battle. From then on we had a love hate relationship. I respected her for her age and mastery, and she respected me for my position as Angelus favorite Childe; but we both hated each other because we both wanted Angelus' attention. The bastard knew of course, loved having the two of us fight over him. It was worse with Dru.a lot worse." He drifted off then, and Willow realized she'd learned more than was just on the surface of his story. She could feel the bitterness Spike felt at being discarded by Angelus, and she felt the final resolve behind the telling--Spike would never do to her what was done to him, he'd never let anyone come between them.  
  
She pulled in tightly against him, breathing in his scent as she sighed and propelled them to continue walking. The silence was comfortable, and Spike was soon his old self, once again relating tidbits of history to her.  
  
By two AM they were finished for the night. Spike had taken a shortcut to get them back to the car when something startling caught Willow's attention and caused her to stop in the middle of one of the busier streets.  
  
"Willow?" Spike inquired, tugging gently to get her away from the oncoming traffic.  
  
Suddenly she realized what she was seeing was real, and with a tug, she broke away from Spike and raced across the street, her skirts pulled high to give her legs more room.  
  
At the dimly lit store window in one of the worse parts of town, Willow looked on in fascinated amazement at the scaled dollhouse inside. But the thing that caught her attention and held it now as Spike came up behind her was that the dollhouse was no ordinarily model, but a replica of Windemere, they're home, beautifully crafted with no expense spared.  
  
"Spike, it's our home." She said, her voice a mere whisper on the wind as she rubbed the condensation her breathing was causing on the glass.  
  
Spike peered in, and as he did, his expression darkened. "Bloody hell, the wanker copied my house!"  
  
Suddenly Willow turned to him, her eyes just as suddenly commanding. "Spike, I want that dollhouse. I want it." She brought her hands to his chest, pressing her nails just slightly into his flesh causing the demon to surface. The magic was strong here too. "Please Spike, for me? Please." And within the time of a thought, he'd reacted.  
  
When he broke the store window to get in, Willow only giggled, and when he lifted her over the glass so she wouldn't cut her feet, she kissed him for his thoughtfulness. But when the owner came down with a loaded shotgun in his hand and Spike made to move for the kill, she stopped him, and turned on her newly acquired charm.  
  
Her hand against his chest, she turned to face the shopkeeper, a very old man with gnarled hands that had worked wood for a lifetime. "We're awfully sorry about the mess, and William will be happy to pay for the damages. We figured since the door was closed, we'd just find our own way in."  
  
"Y-you what--" The man sputtered, but Spike cut him off.  
  
With a growl, he spoke through elongating fangs. "Don't tempt me old man, listen to the woman."  
  
Suddenly fearful and realizing this was no ordinary robbery, the man lowered the weapon. Willow smiled coyly as she advanced. Her entire body was in the hunt, and it was as if she were already a part of Spike's world. Her lover watched her with lustful appreciation as she glided towards the man, using her body as a weapon, allowing the magic of the land newly discovered to unconsciously enhance her lethal charm.  
  
"The dollhouse is beautiful. You know, William and I live in a house that looks just like it, exactly like it." She stressed the word 'exactly' as she stopped before the wide-eyed and trembling man. "William and I are newlyweds, just a few weeks actually, and I can't think of a more wonderful present than this lovely dollhouse. Well, I mentioned it to him and he was bound and determined I'd have it tonight, weren't you, my love?" She remained facing the shopkeeper, her eyes locked solidly with his as she threw the question over her shoulder.  
  
"Whatever my Queen wants."  
  
Willow giggled. "He's so wonderful to me. Now, let's talk price." She move to the dollhouse, gently opening it to see that it was indeed a perfect replica of their home. Every detail was preserved and hand carved, even the chandeliers were made from real glass that tinkled as the two halves separated. "It's so beautiful. Did you do all the work yourself?" She asked, looking back at the wizened man.  
  
He shook his head, his eyes still glued to Willow. "M-my wife sewed all the cloth and I done the carving. W-we sent out fer the glass work."  
  
She smiled a mouth full of teeth. "How extraordinary. Now tell me, how did you ever come across such detailed plans to build an exact duplicate of our home nearly an hour away from here? You weren't trespassing, now were you?" The glint in her eye was deadly and the man knew it.  
  
Violently he shook his head while Spike growled, coming to stand next to Willow but not invading her space. "N-no! I-I bought the plans off a man who's wife be workin' there. He-he's dying and they'd be needed the money fer some medicine. 'bout five years ago she took a bunch of pictures while the master--while you were away. I bought the pictures fer the dollhouse ya see there."  
  
Willow clapped her hands and laughed. "How positively perfect!" She turned to Spike. "I want it even more now, it's full of history, intrigue and deceit!" Turing again, she faced the man. "I want it, and William will pay any price for it. Name it."  
  
The man nodded, and from the top of the stairs, came the voice of the man's wife inquiring if everything was alright. "Ya-ya can take it, jus' take it."  
  
But Willow shook her head as the man's wife came into the room and gasped. "No, no, that won't do. I'm sure you need the money, and we did break your window. My grandfather worked wood, so I know this must've taken the better part of half a decade to do. Let's do this, shall we, William will pay you thirty thousand US dollars, cash, when you deliver the dollhouse tomorrow evening around six o'clock. You'll be kind enough to bring your wife and a camera. An empty dollhouse is useless to me, so we'll just commission you to make the furniture. You can take all the pictures you want tomorrow and get started then. I'll send someone to collect the finished pieces every week, and you can name your price. You'll be sure to spare no expense in the material and detail you use, I want them to be the culmination of your very life's work." Again she flashed that devilish smile, stepping back and into Spike's arms. "William and I will be expecting you tomorrow, so do try to be on time. Oh, and don't worry about Clare, it seems she's done us quite a service, so we'll just pretend it never happened. Have a nice night." And with that, she and Spike left the same way they'd come in, neither bothering to mask the fact that they nearly glided over the window frame instead of jumping over it.  
  
Back in the street, they walked the rest of the way to the car and climbed in before ever speaking a word. The magic had slowly seeped from her body, leaving her a bit empty for its presence.  
  
Worried about her behavior and the strangeness that had come over her, Willow clutched Spike's hand in the rolling darkness and spoke in a near whisper. "Twice in one night. It's like the magic was waiting for me to find it, and now that I have it wants me to use it." She shivered and pulled in more tightly against him. "It's a bit frightening. I've never acted that way before."  
  
Spike was silent for a moment. "Dru used to say that there are some people gifted with the ability to draw magic to them. Most people stumble onto magic, but a very select few can call it to them to use how they see fit. It's a power I don't know much about, but there are a few books back at the library that might help, we'll take a look tomorrow. In the mean time, don't worry on it, Luv, you were so beautiful tonight. I can see glimpses of the vampire you'll be someday, and I tell you, it's quite a site to behold."  
  
Willow shook her head. "I was cruel to that shopkeeper, I nearly scared him to death. I didn't want to hurt him, I just really wanted that dollhouse--and I don't even know why I want it, just that I have to have it, like I don't have a choice in the matter."  
  
Tipping his head to the side, Spike thought on it. "The magic took hold of you when you saw the dollhouse, so that tells me that the magic wants it for some reason." He shrugged. "Cor Luv, I've no bloody clue, but you wanted it, and now you have it. I'm gonna have to kill the housekeeper though, and that kind of pisses me off."  
  
Shaking her head, Willow braved to touch his arm. "Don't kill her. I know why you want to, I even understand all that stuff about loyalty and master/slave issues, but for medicine, don't kill her." Spike tried to protest, but stopped at the glint that came back into those emerald eyes. "Don't kill her, but don't encourage bad behavior either. Broken trust is bad for business, I think you might have to break your trust with her and not turn her husband after all. I mean, what good is a minion we don't need, right?"  
  
She smiled up at him then, kissing him as she snuggled in for the long drive home, and Spike grinned that evil look of answering cruelty. "Red, I like the way you think." 


	17. Roses Bloom In The Field While the Lion ...

Chapter 17:Roses Bloom in the Field as the Lion Stalks Its Pray  
  
He remembered this room from his childhood. The furniture was immaculate, as if someone had wrapped it in plastic and only minutes before removed the wrapper. Books with perfect spines adorned the shelves, while pictures of perfectly fake smiling people covered the walls. White carpet and Persian rugs, it was a museum, not a house; but when Willow had lived here, it had been a home.  
  
Xander sighed and turned his attention back to the phone. It should have rung five minutes ago. Willow's mother had excused herself and gone for drinks, put off by the frank and no nonsense "No" Angel had given her.  
  
Angel.  
  
His most hated enemy in his quest for Buffy's heart was now playing an entirely different role in his life. No longer villain or rival, the two had kindled a desperate friendship, one born from similar needs and desires.  
  
His eyes unfocused from the phone as his mind drifted to two nights before. He'd run out of clothes, at least that was the excuse he'd given himself as he'd walked up the driveway to his rundown and nearly condemned house in the lower east side. Beer cans littered the brown and patchy grass while an old Camaro chassie sat rusting off the drive. The blue house needed paint he thought, as he looked in the windows, careful to detect any movement from inside.  
  
His mother would be at work by now, it was nearly six o'clock. She'd be dressed like a hooker, no bra, mini skirt and four inch heels as she waited tables at the local bar. His mother had no self-respect, never really had, and Xander was always afraid he'd grow up to be just like her.  
  
The window's had been dark so he'd walked around back, careful to avoid the twenty pound bag of spilled dog food on the side of the house. The dying yellow lights were nearly blocked by the carcasses of dead insects who had come too close to the glowing heat. With a shake of his head he'd moved around to the back door and let himself into the basement.  
  
Angel had told him not to worry about the clothes, that they'd pick something up the next day. The vampire had been saying things like that a lot lately, as if he had picked up Xander as his pet project, as if he were trying to make amends through the troubled boy. Angel had invited him to say at the mansion on Crawford street, and with no place else to go, he'd accepted. The souled vampire cooked and cleaned, even refused to allow him to help, claiming Xander was a guest. But the strangest, the hardest thing to rationalize were the fits. That's what he called them anyway, the times when the pain of his life was so great, the loss of his best friend so real in his mind that it was all he could do to sit in some dark corner and cry. Angel found him every time, no matter how hard he sought to find a better hiding spot. Angel would find him and either sit with him silently, or comfort him with small rocking motions or softly spoken words in that Irish accent that somehow always soothed him. On those nights Angel would let him cry himself out, before picking him up and carrying him to the vampires bed. Those nights Angel slept next to him, and as the dawn broke the day after his fits, Xander found he had to move away from the vampire, had to rest his head against an uncomfortable pillow rather than that cool, firm chest.  
  
The basement had been dark and it'd been weeks since he'd been home. He'd tripped over a basket full of dirty laundry and fell crashing to the floor before he'd taken five steps. There was a naked bulb in the basement, and it was the pull string he'd gotten up to look for. A few minutes later, after a few more pieces of furniture managed to bruise his legs, he found the chain and lit up the dingy unfinished basement.  
  
He'd left home with only the bloody clothes on his back. Buffy had been kind enough to offer a few of her larger tee-shirts for the cause, but it had been Giles who'd loaned him the money to buy a pair of jeans and a few shirts. When Angel had taken him in, he'd sworn up and down to having enough clothes and required personal items. The next day, Angel had brought him a Wal-Mart bag filled with toiletries and three pairs of boxer shorts, promising more at the end of the week. But the end of the week had brought Willow and Spike's bonding, and both men had forgotten under the weight of Xander's increased fits.  
  
The last time he'd been here his stepfather had nearly broken his nose; this time, Xander felt confident moving around. With the light illuminating the way, he'd moved to the washing machine. Drawing the clothing out, he'd recognizing a few of his items, ones that Roy had confiscated during his absence. A few flicks of his wrists and a little measuring had his clothes noisily spinning in the dryer as he'd moved towards the back of the stairs for a warm soda.  
  
Buffy had been like a princess to him, one of those look but don't touch beautiful people. When she'd come to school and befriended him he thought he'd hit the babe jackpot. She was fun and beautiful, spunky and trendy, she was the perfect accessory to any boy's wardrobe. He'd fallen for her looks; but years later, in one horrible night, she'd become the most hideous, disgusting person he'd ever met in his life. She'd known that Willow cared about Oz, knew it, and moved in the moment she could. That beautiful California exterior housed a scorned woman who wanted the center of attention no matter how she had to get it, no matter who's life she had to ruin to get it. He knew she'd gone after Oz as a sort of personal dare, just to see if she could steal him away from Willow. She couldn't stand seeing others happy when she wasn't, so she made sure no one was happy, and Xander believed completely, that Buffy had wanted to get caught, to see the unhappiness in her own soul reflected in the tear filled eyes of her best friend. She got what she wanted, to a point, but the plan backfired and suddenly, Willow was gone and the center of everyone's attention. That fact enraged the Slayer to the point where she no longer even spoke about Willow, until she was the first person to declare his best friend dead before refusing to continue to look for her.  
  
The dryer had been too loud. He never heard the sound of Roy's feet on the stairs, never heard his stepfather's approach until it was too late. With the pop open, he'd turned to sit on a few of the sturdier boxes with one of the discarded Tattoo Monthly magazines, when that cold and slurred voice made him realized the full extent of his mistake. "Ya shoulda never come home boy." The punch landed solid and true against his jaw.  
  
He and Willow had been friends since they were three years old. They'd been playing in the sandbox together, he building a fort, she building a four foot high skyscraper with bottle cap windows. Since then they'd befriended many others, but had always remained true to each other-- well, at least Willow had. He'd known she had a crush on him. But Willow was mousy and geeky, and not the type of person Xander Harris wanted to claim as his girlfriend. So he'd pretended he didn't notice her attraction to him, laughed off the small courageous advances she's made on him until she stopped making them, and he thought he could finally breathe easier. But that wasn't the case. Oh he understood that he wasn't IN love with Willow, but the love he had for her was something so much deeper than he ever realized. He wasn't IN love with her, he was beyond that, far beyond it, in a place where he loved her so much he wanted someone better for her. He knew now he could easily love her, marry her, give her a home and a happy life, but he wanted more for her than he could give, and so he was happy to give her to someone better than himself, so great was his love for her. She was his best friend, the love of his life, and the sister he never had all rolled into one shy and lovely package he'd spent his whole life trying to ignore. But when she'd disappeared the truth had come crashing down on him, his grief over what he'd lost, splintering his hold on reality until he knew his thoughts weren't wholly coherent; just as he knew they never would be again. She was the other half of his soul, and she was gone.  
  
The cement floor had scraped the flesh from his hands. The pain in his jaw had been excruciating, but the sudden and painful kick of surplus army boots to his side had wrenched the cry from his lips all the same. He could hear the old man laughing above him as he'd tried to crawl away, only to receive another kick for his lack of sufficient speed. The strange thing was, as two more kicks landed against his body, this time to his shoulder and head, he was calm in the knowledge that he was going to die, that the pain was finally going to be over. The darkness that'd come over him after the last kick was slow, as if he'd been descending into a dark hole that light could not escape but sound could. Vaguely he'd heard the sound of Roy laughing, of those surplus boots scraping the cement before hitting something slightly squishy, and the sound of the basement door flying open, and the most enraged growl.  
  
Oz was a guitar strumming, rainbow headed cock-sucking bastard, he had to be, otherwise why would he have chosen Buffy over Willow. On a survey of 50 things men want in a women, Buffy would beat Willow in only one category, beauty, that left 49 other reasons to worship the ground the red haired girl walked on and drop kick Buffy to the curb. But he couldn't hate Oz, he couldn't because he'd done the same thing, desired the same thing, been shallow enough to think that in the long run beauty was more important than brains or trust, or love. Oz was a musician, what did he really expect? But still, Oz was going to pay, he had to, that was the law between best friends. Oz hurt Willow, so, Xander hurt Oz. Really, what more did the mother fucking werewolf expect?  
  
He'd awoken to a strange copper taste in his mouth and a languid almost liquid feeling filling his entire body. He'd recognized Angel's bedroom and had to search his fuzzy memory to recall how bad his last fit had been. Angel's warm hand had startled him as it came to rest against his cheek and those soulful brown eyes met his. "Are ya alrigh', Xander?" He'd tried to nod, but he was warm and drowsy and instead of asking all the obvious and correct questions, he'd allowed his mind to drift back to sleep.  
  
The next morning found him wrapped securely in Angel's arms, and for the first time he didn't force himself to move away. There was something infinitely comforting where he rested, and so he'd remained until the vampire awoke.  
  
When Angel's eyes met his it was obvious he wanted as few lies between them as possible.  
  
"Xander, last nigh ah went ta yer house when ya didna come home. I found yer stepfather beatin' ya. Ah killed him, Xander. Then I brought ya home. Ah gave ya abou' a pint of me own blood ta heal yer wounds. It won' change ya, but ya might be feelin' a bit drowsy for a few days. The most important thin', yer gonna be alrigh', Ah promise ya."  
  
What more was there to say? Roy was dead, and he was walking around like nothing happened thanks to a pint of vampire blood. Great. He'd stood, gotten out of bed on shaky legs and moved to lean against the black velvet curtains.  
  
He heard Angel get out of bed and come to stand close to him, worried about him even now.  
  
"Ah'll understan' if'n ya hate me, Xander."  
  
Oh how wrong a vampire could be.  
  
There was only one thing left to do.  
  
His movements had been unsteady, the blood in his system acting like a heavy dose of Everclear.  
  
"Thank you, Angel."  
  
The vampire had looked a bit surprised before offering a sad smile.  
  
But Xander hadn't been finished. Slowly he'd reached up and crushed those sultry, full lips to his own.  
  
Two days later they were lovers, and as Xander's focus returned to the phone in front of him, he was startled to see Angel suddenly appear before him.  
  
"She'll be callin', Xander, Ah'm sure of it." The accent had been so strange at first, as if Angel had stepped out of his old life and into a new one, as if he'd found the thing he was searching for and no longer needed to cling to the things of his curse years. The Irish brogue was seductive, and for Xander it was immensely comforting.  
  
He nodded, offering his lover a soft smile. "I know, I just wish she was more like her prompt old self. Whatever happened to stopwatch Willow?" The humor was mixed liberally with the worry, and so Angel moved to sit beside him before wrapping an arm about his shoulders and pulling him close.  
  
If Mr. Rosenburg stared, Xander didn't care.  
  
Then the phone rang.  
  
* * *  
  
Nervously, Willow held the bulky phone to her ear, listening to the silence that accompanies the first ring of anticipation. There wasn't a second ring.  
  
"Willow?"  
  
She smiled, her eyes going to Spike who leaned against the desk in front of her.  
  
"Hi Xander."  
  
Tears, she wasn't expecting. Even though her father had warned her that something was terribly wrong with her best friend, she didn't fully understand, until she heard Alexander Harris weeping half a world away.  
  
"Oh Willow." They were heart wrenching, filled with pain and remorse; yet with a hope so profound it had diamond tears glittering immediately in Willow's eyes. "We thought you were dead! Everyone said to give up.everyone said you were gone; but I didn't believe them!" As the panic and relief grew, tears made tracks down Willow's pained face. "I knew you wouldn't leave me, Willow. I knew you wouldn't leave me all alone." And then sobs, broken words that fell on deaf ears for Willow wept as well. This couldn't be her bright and cheerful best friend, it just couldn't be!  
  
The phone gripped tightly to her ear, she hunched over, hiding the violent tremors of grief that shuttered through her body. She'd done this, she'd done this to her best friend!  
  
Strong arms tugged, and with a slight tumble, Willow was on the floor, wrapped securely in the shelter of Spike's body. He didn't speak, instead he rocked them back and forth, letting the rhythm calm her as no words could.  
  
In the background, she could hear the jostling of the phone and then the muffled sobs, as if Xander were sobbing into a pillow to stifle the sound. She could hear her name, repeated over and over, and the more he called out to her, the more she realized just how damaged her best friend was.  
  
How could this have happened? Since when had Xander cared about her so much.been so dependent on her? When, and why hadn't she ever noticed?  
  
Then suddenly, in the background, in what was most likely the living room of her parents home in Sunnydale, came the most striking and chilling Irish accent. "Tis alrigh', Xander. She's alrigh', just like ah promised. William's a good boy, no need ta be worrin' when he's the one lookin' after her. Tis alrigh now, shhhhhh."  
  
Angel.  
  
Angel was with Xander.  
  
Were the others there too? A sudden and terrible panic gripped her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs in one gasped breath that came out with only one word.  
  
"Buffy."  
  
Behind her, Spike stiffened, his body instinctively curling around her as his hand reached automatically for the phone.  
  
"NO!" Xander's voice was high pitched and terrified as Spike pulled the phone from her lifeless hand. "NO! She's not here Willow, she isn't! I swear it, I swear! Please believe me, please! The others aren't here, it's just me, just me and Angel, please, Willow, please don't hang up!"  
  
The hard note in Spike's voice was testament to just how angry he was with the situation. "Put the poof on! Now!" But even though Spike's voice was rough, the hand that caressed soothing circles across Willow's back was soft and reassuring.  
  
Red rimmed, sparkling eyes looked pained as Willow turned to her lover for reassurance.  
  
"It be me, William." Angel? How could that be Angel? She knew he'd grown up in Ireland, but he'd never spoke with his accent in all the time she'd known him. True she didn't know him that well, Buffy spent the most time with him; but the blond never mentioned Angel speaking with an accent. And knowing that back-stabbing pre-Madonna bitch, she wouldn't have passed up the opportunity to gloat about it either, which meant, Angel shouldn't have an accent.but.  
  
Spike's voice was that cool calm, one that was neither heated or rushed. It was the tone Willow feared most of all, one that said more efficiently than words, that whatever had happened, had cut deep. "You pathetic Nancy boy, poof. This is how you expect to win back my trust, by betraying me in the first round? The instruction were fairly simple, Willow calls home, and talks to Chubbs; what the bloody hell are you doing there?" Worried, Willow took Spike's unoccupied hand. A light squeeze earned his attention, and she felt herself finally relax as he squeezed back before lightly petting her hair.  
  
Angel's reply was a long time in coming, but whatever he said stalled Spike's hand.  
  
The blond's reply was tight, and Willow felt the immediate tension fill his body. "That so?" Without waiting for further conversation, Spike made his demand. "Give the phone back to the boy or I hang up." Angel must have agreed, because Spike handed her back the phone, a forced smile on his face. "See Luv, all yours again."  
  
Without even hesitating, Willow covered the mouthpiece. "What's wrong? What did Angel say to you?"  
  
Spike offered her a forced grin and a shrug. "Nothing I shouldn't have suspected. Go on now, talk to the boy, remember, this thing is costing me a mint." Then, with a kiss on the cheek Spike unwrapped himself from around her body and stood. He offered a passing explanation as he walked to the door. "I need a smoke."  
  
"But," she rose, worried more now than ever, her tears all but forgotten. "You always smoke with me around, why are you leaving?!"  
  
The most painful, and heart wrenching expression fell across Spike's face then, and Willow nearly dropped the phone and ran to him, would have if he hadn't quickly looked away and shrugged. "I just need a minute, Willow.I'll be back. Talk to the boy, that is why you called." Without a backwards glance, Spike left the room, shutting the door behind him.  
  
With fear settling cold in her gut, Willow slowly raised the receiver to her ear. "Xander, what's going on? Why's Angel there? What's happened?"  
  
Half a world away, Xander sighed. "No one believed that you were alive. No one. I tried to tell them, I tried to explain that I'd know if you were dead, but no one believed me. Well, that's not true, Angel believed me. Willow, he's the only one that did. Your mom and dad, they wanted to believe it, but.but I think sometimes it was easier to think you weren't. But Angel believed me Willow and.and I haven't been doing so well lately. Things.things get dark in my head sometimes. It's like, like I can't move or something. But Angel's been taking really good care of me. You'd like him Willow. I think we should make him a Scooby member. We'll kick out Buffy and take Angel, doesn't that sound nice? Don't you think Angel would make a much better Scooby member than Buffy ever did?"  
  
Stunned at Xander's words, unable to fully comprehend the change in her best friend, Willow stood dumb, the phone cradled limply against her shoulder. How had this happened? How could a simple phone call turned so.so.  
  
In one moment, everything-EVERYTHING-everything, changed.  
  
"Willow!"  
  
One heart beat.  
  
Her chest constricts.  
  
"Don't even try that with me, I know you're there! Answer me!"  
  
Eyes wide, her breaths are reduced to rattling draws.  
  
Her head hurts suddenly.  
  
"Damnit Willow, answer me! Spike?! What were you thinking?! Are you that desperate to get back at me for Oz? Jesus, it wasn't that big of a deal, it was just a few kisses."  
  
Is it possible her world to constrict to such a small insignificant little space?  
  
How could this have happened?  
  
Xander's heroic voice, "Buffy! You back-stabbing bitch! Get off the phone now!"  
  
Muffled foot steps.Angel.running into the other room searching out the Slayer.  
  
Buffy, "No way Xander. I don't know what's gotten into Willow, but it has to stop. She can't run off pretending to be dead making me worry all out of revenge over what happened with Oz. I mean, honestly, if he was so easy to sway--and believe me, I didn't have to do much convincing--then she didn't need him anyway. So the way I see it, I did her a favor."  
  
Her head hurt.  
  
Absently her fingers moved to her arm, nails scratching deep marks in her flesh, nearly breaking the skin.  
  
She remained silent.  
  
"This has nothing to do with you, Buffy! You hurt Willow; you did it on purpose! She was your best friend and you hurt her just because you weren't the center of everyone's world!"  
  
Funny, Xander sounded a lot more coherent now that he was fighting to defend her.  
  
An indignant huff. "As if. Oz and Willow had already broken up, everyone knew that, so he was back in the pond with all the other little fishies. Do you hear me Willow, he wasn't your boyfriend. Who cares if I slept with him?"  
  
Slept.with him.  
  
Silence, and then Xander's voice. "No, no, no, Buffy. Buffy, what have you done?"  
  
Were those tears?  
  
Who.who was crying?  
  
Oh.  
  
It was her.  
  
A sudden distant crash alerted Willow to the fact that Angel had found the room Buffy had been hiding in. "Ya vain little whore! How dare ya!" There was a crash, as if some lifeless object had just been thrown against a case of books. Oh, Angel must have given Buffy a toss.that was sort of funny.  
  
"Willow!? Willow can you hear me?! Willow?! WILLOW!!!" Why was Xander screaming her name?  
  
Oh, she was laughing.  
  
Strange to be laughing at a time like this.  
  
Better to say something, anything, but better make it good.  
  
"Willow?" Angel, accent and all.  
  
Voice, calm. "Angel, tell Buffy.tell her."  
  
Tell her what? What to say? There are so many, many things to tell her former best friend.  
  
So many, many things.  
  
Someone took the phone from her hand. She looked up. Oh, only Spike.  
  
His voice is so cold, cold and powerful.  
  
"Tell her she's already dead. Tell her, when the Red Queen rises, Slayer blood will run. Tell her, William the Bloody is back, and it's time to make it three." With a click, the phone line's cut. No more talking.  
  
"Willow?" Blue eyes, concerned eyes, loving eyes.  
  
Her head suddenly doesn't hurt so much.  
  
Her eyes aren't so wide.  
  
Her breathing goes back to normal.  
  
She offers him a watery smile. "I guess that didn't go so well."  
  
They share a nod.  
  
It's enough.  
  
The Slayer's fate is sealed.  
  
No more games.  
  
No more half-truths.  
  
When the Red Queen rises, Slayer blood will run.  
  
And together, they'll paint the town red. 


	18. The Storm

Chapter 18: The Storm  
  
The last few days had been a torrent of mixed emotions that were slowly driving Willow insane. Her call to Xander had upset her terribly. Knowing that her best friend was so mentally exhausted, never mind slightly crazy had her wanting to rush back to Sunnydale so she could throw her protective arms around him and never let him go. On the other hand, the same phone call had gone disastrously wrong, with Buffy interrupting, allowing images of the blond and Oz to fill her mind. It was painful to think about going home, both because she wanted to, and because she was terrified of the idea.  
  
Her heart hated her and loved her. How could she willingly abandon Xander in his time of need? They were better than brother and sister, they were family in a way that mattered more because they'd specifically chosen each other years ago. And yet, she couldn't deny the fact that to return to Sunnydale was out of the question, she just couldn't. She couldn't face Buffy, couldn't face Oz, not because she wasn't strong enough--no the magic that had risen it's powerful head was only growing strong as time moved forward--instead it was because she wasn't ready yet. When she went back to Sunnydale it would be to accomplish one task and one task only, she was going to kill everyone that had ever hurt her.  
  
How odd that she felt only numb and resigned to the knowledge that her return home would mean the deaths of many people she had called family and friends. But in reality, it wasn't so odd at all. She'd lived the life of the living, she knew what it was about, what it required of those that lived it, and she was tired of it. Her new life, here in Ireland with Spike, it was the life of a vampire, of a great Queen and her mate that would one day be recorded in history books. This was the beginning of a new life for her, but for the time being her old one had to stay unresolved- -so that when the time came, no one would ever forget that it is always the meek that inherit the earth.  
  
A thousand happy, sad, worried and confusing thoughts swam through Willow's head and she sighed before turning to look at the softly ticking clock next to the bed; two in the afternoon. Turning in the opposite direction, Willow watched Spike as he laid as still as death beneath the covers.  
  
Handsome in that way of Greek sculptures. His features were chiseled and angular; they were the makings of the most skilled craftsmen the world has ever known. Over the last four months his hair had grown a bit longer so that the ends just slightly curled in that adorable way that made him look like a cherub. Then there were his eyes. She couldn't quite place what it was about them that was so different now, but she knew it was profound. Spike had never been as hopelessly lost as she had, but he was most certainly drifting with the current. Now however, it was as if he'd found his inner glow, as if something had returned that he'd lost so long ago, which now flooded his life with new meaning. Oh who was she kidding? It was her. Spike loved her, maybe even more than she loved him. He needed her because he was a man, wanted her because he was a vampire, and loved her because he was both. She didn't know what it meant to live centuries, to move with the flow of time for so long, but she was beginning to understand how lonely that could be, and she was never going to let Spike feel lonely again.  
  
Lifting her hand she scrubbed delicately at her eyes, biting back a hiss from the sting that accompanies sleepless nights. Too many thoughts, too many worries. Spike had wanted to give her a few tried and true sleeping pills in the hopes that she'd get one decent nights rest this week, but she's refused and they'd settled for warm milk. Obviously that wasn't working.  
  
Knowing that to remain in bed would only awaken Spike, and also knowing it was far to early for him to be getting up, she resigned herself to leaving the bed.  
  
That was one of the drawbacks about sleeping with a vampire, they always know their surroundings--well either they do, or their demons, which are basically the same thing. The first lifting of the covers roused him.  
  
"Willow? What's wrong?" Came that beautiful sleepy British accent.  
  
Cursing her luck, Willow turned around and brushed back a few curling strands of blond hair. "I'm gonna walk for a bit, try and tire myself out so I can go back to sleep. I'll be back in a little while."  
  
Spike struggled to sit up. "I'll come with you."  
  
Shaking her head, Willow pushed on his chest until he lay back among the black and burgundy pillows. "No reason for you to get up too. I'll be back in a few minutes, you won't even know I'm gone."  
  
Those gorgeous blue frost eyes locked with hers and Willow felt a rush of warming heat at his words. "I always know when your gone, Luv." He paused then, weighting the pros and cons before closing his eyes and sinking back into the covers. "Right, don't be gone too long, there's a storm outside and the house'll be drafty as all hell."  
  
She nodded, leaning over to kiss him and reveling in the kiss he returned before she climbed the rest of the way out of bed and pulled up the covers to keep him warm. She'd learned that vampires could feel things like hot and cold, and that Spike was one of those perpetually cold people. He'd told her once that's why he liked to cuddle so much, and she didn't have the heart to tell him it was probably just due to a lack of circulation.  
  
Her feet slipped into soft, warm slippers as she moved to the door and opened it. In the hallway she turned to look one more time at her sleeping lover before closing the door soundlessly and moving down into the darkness. Memory guided her steps as she moved down the staircase. At the second floor she went to the library and selected a book before resting her tired body in one of the high-backed chairs by the dormant fire.  
  
Spike was right, she thought as the wind whistled over the chimney top, sending a wicked draft into the room that curled about her shoulders. With only the slightest hesitation, she raised her right hand to the cold fireplace and extended her palm to face it.  
  
"Ignite."  
  
A sudden bust of magical energy raced from her body and erupted into the fireplace with a blaze of heat that settled the draft immediately. Her experimentation with magic had taught her many things. The first thing, concerned her power level. Spike's library contained a multitude of magical journals and books, but most were fairly strict that power levels were extremely low in new witches, except for those born to wield magic, those select few chosen by the Goddess for something greater. The books hadn't been specific about what a natural witch could or couldn't do, but after a lengthy conversation with Spike, they'd come to the conclusion that her magic was no where near a new witch's level.  
  
The second thing she'd learned was that magic did not need fancy words to work. The intent of the spell was the only thing required. Some witches needed help focusing their energy, which is where magical words came into being. However, the words themselves held no real power, and so the archaic Latin could easily be converted to English equivalents. However, Willow held a secret; she didn't need the help concentrating when she did magic. Wordless magic was another sign of power among witches, it was a mark that some of the texts labeled as that of a natural witch. She's kept the secret from Spike so far, wanting more than anything to surprise him with it when she was sure she no longer needed the verbal trappings. She couldn't wait to see his face.  
  
The third and final thing she'd come to understand was that her abilities weakened the further away she moved from the earth. Her magic was stronger on the first floor of Windemere than it was on the second, and even weaker on the third, while outside, under the full light of the moons glow, the magic in the earth seemed to flood her every sense, filling her warm affection and familiarity. With her toes in the grass she could feel the flow of power beneath the crust of the earth, feel the movements of magic through the air as if witnessing the breeze. It was almost overwhelming, catching her off guard the first time.  
  
But like in town, the magic also had its peculiar and frightening side. Under the influence of power Willow felt almost there was another person inside her body. Fear was a foreign thing while drawing magic, and more than once her personality shifts had alerted Spike to the otherwise invisible action of drawing magic. She was more in control, more sure of herself, as if she was assured that no one could harm her, as if fear had no place. She was equal parts kindness and cruelty, as if she were truly a neutral being, caring little for those not within her circle of protection, and guarding those that were with the ferociousness of a lioness protecting cubs. It was like she was a mimic of her own Goddess, the ultimate bringer of life and death. It was at once awe inspiring, and terrifying.  
  
As the heat in the room built up, Willow engrossed herself in the book she was reading. While it was common knowledge that Alice In Wonderland was nothing but a man's trip though a drug induced haze, it also presented a drastically different view of the world, one Willow had heard glimpses of in the way Xander spoke during their conversation. In the book the characters never spoke in a straightforward manner, or confused Alice with double meanings. Xander wasn't so different, he saw the world differently now then others did, it was a strange twisted place, and Willow wanted to know more about it so she could help him find a way out.  
  
A sudden idea had her looking up from her book. She couldn't go back to Sunnydale, she just couldn't, not with Buffy there, not before she was dead and yet living. However, there wasn't any reason why Xander couldn't come and be with her. Spike might object, but once he realized how important it was to her to have Xander there so she could care for him, her vampire lover would understand, he had too.  
  
It was with a great amount of relief that Willow rose from the chair and set her book on the side table. She'd call her parents on the satellite phone, tell them that she needed to talk to Xander again and that they needed to get him to the house. Once she'd talked her parents into arranging another conversation with Xander she'd explain to Spike that her childhood friend had to come, that she needed him to be with her so she could care for him. A wicked thought crossed her mind as she moved out of the library towards Spike's office. She knew what Xander would be like as a vampire, she'd heard all about it from her doppelganger counterpart. Xander was cool and driven, easily becoming one of the Master's right hand men. She clapped her hands and did a little twirl as she entered the dark green office, this was perfect, Spike would love Xander! The two of them would work so wonderfully together, the three of them, partners in this new life they would create.  
  
Willow sighed, lost in thought as she absently opened the case containing the satellite phone, which had been left on the stained desk. The curtains were open across the one window in the room, and Willow's attention was caught by the pounding rain that drummed against the pane of glass. Outside the world was dark and gray, covered in thick clouds that wept tears to ease the earth.  
  
Suddenly, she shivered, caught by a strange feeling that something wasn't right, that something was about to go horribly wrong. Unnerved, she powered up the phone before stretching her hands out in front of her towards the window, seeking the flows of energy that seemed to weave through this majestic island. But the power receded, pulling way from her, as if to say, "you must see and deal on your own, this is your task alone".  
  
Startled, she considered leaving the study for the ground floor, maybe even the garden in hopes of determining why the magic shied away, but reason overruled, and Willow quickly picked up the bulky phone and enter her parents telephone number.  
  
It'd been less than a week since she'd talked to her family and she imagined her father would be quite upset at her for hanging up before talking to him last time. She doubted very much that he had anything to do with Buffy being there, in fact she rather thought it was her mother's doing, but without proof she preferred to tell herself that Buffy had just caught wind of the phone call and broke in.  
  
The phone rang once.  
  
A streak of lightening, far off the coastline flashed brilliantly, illuminating the room. Willow counted to four Mississippi before the boom of thunder rattled the house.  
  
The phone rang once more.  
  
Awkwardly, she moved around the desk, looking out across the grounds towards the cliffs, watching as the giant sea waves sent spray up to battle against the rain.  
  
Three rings.  
  
At the click, Willow straightened her shoulders, prepared to make her demands.  
  
"Hello, you have reached Ira and Sheila Rosenburg. We would like to thank all those that kept hope alive that our daughter Willow was still with us. We are happy to say that our prayers have been answered and Willow has indeed been found alive and well. After much celebrating, Ira and I are continuing our lecture circuit. Please leave us a message and we'll be happy to get back to you as soon as we possibly can. Thank you, and god bless."  
  
At the beep, the heavy phone slipped from Willow's numb fingers and crashed to the floor with a dull thud. It's funny the things that make it through shock. As Willow's large tear filled eyes took in her reflection in the window, she couldn't help but think she looked ridiculously silly in one of Spike's black shirts. Wordlessly, her hands moved to the buttons, undoing one after the other until the fabric gaped open and fell silently to the floor. Tears fell, but she that fact didn't make it through. She was under dressed, and she just where to find the perfect outfit.  
  
Feet whispered across the carpet as she moved down the hallway and up the stairs. One, two, three, she counted the doors to her right as she moved past them, stopping at the door that had originally been her room. Opening the door she glided inside, her mind empty except for the image of a single dress that would fit her purpose nicely.  
  
Drusilla's clothing had been moved from the bedroom closet, replaced here, in the room Willow hardly even entered. A soft click had the doors opened and Willow smiled to herself, tasting saltwater tears as she reached inside and pulled out the five foot wide hoop skirt. She'd seen it ages ago in Spike's closet, and now as she slipped it over her head and tied the laces, she was pleased to find that it fit beautifully.  
  
There were a million other underclothes that should have come before the hoops, but Willow bothered with none of them. Shaking hands reached inside and withdrew a gown she'd only admired from a distance, fearful of ruining it.  
  
It was the most pure and delicate white she could imagine. The dress was old, and yet timeless, with off the shoulder sleeves made of lace, and satin panels that ran from the front of the bodice down to a point at her center. The rest, beautiful and classic was made of rich white velvet, littered with sparkling threads made from true silver. Beneath was toul at least a foot thick, and as Willow slipped the deceptively heavy dress over her head, she basked in the scratches that the fabric left across her body.  
  
The back was made of crossing laces of satin, and Willow clumsily grasped both ties and tightened the dress to fit properly across her chest and waist. With a stressed exhale she moved into the bathroom, the layers upon layers of dense fabric swishing about her like thick mist.  
  
Once inside the dark room, she uttered not a word before the candles inside lit up, casting the room in orange firelight. At the mirrors she examined her appearance. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes swollen as tears leaked from her eyes. But her dress, that was a sight to see. She was like a scorned woman returning from a ball, now eager and willing to end her own suffering.  
  
The corners of her mouth turned up at a sudden thought as her eyes danced with inner happiness at the idea. With a dramatic turn that caused cascades of fabric to swirl bout her, Willow raced for the doorway and bolted out. Through her room she maneuvered, the heavy metal hoops knocking into chairs and doorframes as she raced down halls, staircases, and past rooms.  
  
The torrent of rain that blasted into her face the moment she threw herself into the storm shocked her for a moment, throwing her fractured mind together.  
  
She should have expected this, should have known it was coming and been prepared for it. Her parents were self-absorbed, self-important influences of the people; how could they possibly be expected to hold their book tours and speaking engagements? Her mother had probably rescheduled the moment she'd gotten off the phone two weeks ago! And her father.she'd never forgive him.  
  
Rain mingled with tears as she swept into the storm. Her legs, slowed by the weight of the water soaking into the reams of heavy fabric, pressed harder, her toes slipping in the mud as she ran across the estate towards the cliffs.  
  
When there was more at stake, too much at stake, there was only one thing left to do.  
  
* * *  
  
Years later, centuries later, he wouldn't know what awoke him this night.  
  
With a start, Spike awoke, his body turning instantly towards Willow. But his beautiful Queen was no where and his mind raced to remember where it was that she had gone. He relaxed when he recalled she hadn't been able to sleep, that she'd wanted to take a walk to clear her head. Groggy, he turned to the small ticking clock.  
  
3:30pm, she'd been up for an hour and a half.  
  
Worry flooded his veins, making him hypersensitive to the world around him as the demon pressed forward looking for its mate. He stilled, his predatory hearing searching for her heartbeat, but with the storm raging outside it was hard to hear anything clearly.  
  
Throwing the covers off he moved to the door, demon present and smelling the air for any trace of his woman. The door yielded as he threw it open, the handle crashing into the wall behind it, breaking the wood for all time.  
  
He caught the smell of fire on this floor and the next, and on quick, stealthy feet moved to Willow's old room.  
  
Something about this was eerily, terrifyingly, familiar. Half panicked, half the calm predator that was a master vampire, Spike stalked the hallway before throwing open a bedroom door hardly used since Willow came to his bed.  
  
Inside the smell of burning wax flooded his senses and he turned towards the bathroom. Candles burned in that room, he could see the firelight escaping from around the door. But he didn't have to close his eyes, he didn't have to concentrate to hear, there was no heartbeat in this room--his mate was not in this room.  
  
With a roar of rage and all consuming fear, the demon turned from the room and raced to the second floor, tearing open the library doors to see the warm fire burning in the hearth. Again however, its mate was not in this room.  
  
Turning, it used eyes trained for two centuries to stalk pray and found the anomaly. The door to Spike's study was open. With a frantic push the door banged open, and the demon took in the unruly sight before it.  
  
The case was open, the handset cord dangling across the desk. It crossed the room and saw the handset swinging back and forth in the disturbed air. She'd tried to escape!  
  
NO! Came the voice of reason, of a poet long dead. No, she wouldn't leave, something's happened. Hands reached and turned the case around. The computer log was opened and Spike searched the call list. There it was, Willow's parent's number, dialed not half an hour ago, the call itself lasting three minutes.  
  
Three minutes. What could have been said and destroyed in three minutes; the life they'd built, the love they shared, or the spider silk threads that held Willow's mind and body together? Three minutes, all the time needed to destroy the woman he loved, needed, could not exist without.  
  
Lightening flashed, illuminating the room in a burst of light that momentarily blinded the predator. The storm was so violent, rain pounding against the window demanding entrance, demanding destruction.  
  
He watched the rain as his mind raced to find a place Willow might have gone. There were the gardens both inside and out, or the stables, she might have gone to see Jack and Mary. So many places to hide, so many places to be injured.  
  
The demon roared at him, demanded that he stop thinking and just go find what was theirs.  
  
And then, as another flash of lightening ripped across the ocean, he saw in the brilliance a most ethereal sight. Hair the unmuted color of the sun, skin like porcelain, and a dress, so white and pure it shone like snow kissed by diamonds. Willow, in a gown made for laughing balls and gay parties, was racing towards the cliffs, racing to.  
  
"WILLOW!" His fisted hand slammed into the glass, shattering it into a thousand pieces that were instantly swept into the room as the storm found a weakness in the seemingly impenetrable estate. Be it the noise, or fate, or something even more powerful, he watched her turn, watched as the dress tore around her, a she took one last look at her home, and then disappeared over one of the cliff's.  
  
He didn't stop to think as the demon and poet merged fully in their quest to retrieve their mate. With feline grace he leapt to the windowsill before jumping to the slanted roof that jutted out across the first floor. Feet slipped on inches of water, but demon claws were faster, digging into the shingles before pressing forward.  
  
Another jump, two, three, and he was on the ground, his bare feet sinking into the thick mud as the sky wept tears of sorrow. Without another thought, without anything more than a command to his legs, the vampire tore across the estate, across grass and mud, across rock and dirt.  
  
At the edge of the cliffs he looked down and with a feral roar filled with more emotions that just rage and fear, he saw her, and did not hesitate. 


	19. You Thought I Was Going To Do WHAT!

Chapter 19: You Thought I Was Going To Do WHAT?!  
  
She heard the roar; terror, pain, fear, the all consuming note of loneliness and rage. She turned, the soaked dress clinging to her, making her movements jerky, slow. She watched him crest the hill, watched the demon dance across his face as the two warred for control. She listened to the sound of his cry, his call, his demand, and she responded.  
  
Arms thrown out, head tipped back into the torrential rain, Willow opened her eyes into the lightening of the storm and made her own demand.  
  
* * *  
  
So many emotions in one cry, so many fears in one sound. He couldn't lose her, he couldn't! If she jumped, he'd wait right there, no matter how long it took for the sun, and he'd go to her. Maybe they wouldn't go to the same place, but at least if he didn't see her, he'd know she'd be happy.  
  
The demon pushed him forward and he followed, knowing he had only two choices, reach Willow or die.  
  
Neither he nor his demon were ready when the small woman threw her head back and screamed into the night. Nor were they ready when the ground around her cracked and splintered, rising and jutting up in sharp spikes of ancient earth. They couldn't have been prepared for the lightening that suddenly drove from the sky and struck into the palms of each of her hands. They couldn't have been prepared for the howling wind swirling around her suddenly, lifting her off the ground to float three meters off the earth. And they weren't ready when the sea surged suddenly three hundred feet and sent a wide spray that suddenly hung in the air like tiny diamonds around her before coalescing into a river of water that came to form a ring around her body. No, they weren't at all ready, but they watched horrified and fascinated, all the same.  
  
* * *  
  
When there was more at stake, too much at stake, there was only one thing left to do.  
  
Opening her lungs, Willow let lose the sound of her ultimate frustration, her all consuming fear; she let go of the shy nobody she'd been as a child, of her desperate need to be accepted, and in its place she accepted the power, the magic, the call of the word, Queen.  
  
Power filled her body, first the earth, surged into her, from the soles of her feet, up through her spine and into the back of her brain where in the future it was only a thought away. Next was the power of fire, of lightening, of destruction. It burned into her hands, poured up her arms and into her chest, settling into her heart to burn brightly and with passion. Then the wind, the air, the wisdom not even time could withhold. It rushed into her eyes, her ears, nose and mouth, it filled her senses, and branded her wise beyond her years; filled her with the knowledge she would need to control that which was consuming her. Next came the sea, the rain, the water. It soaked her hair, her clothes, soaked into her flesh. This was the power to rule with care, to use the magic with temperance, to love and nurture more than to hate and destroy.  
  
And then, there was only one thing left.  
  
Her head came forward, her eyes, glowing with the power of ancient magic, fixed on her lover, her mate, her reason for life, and with a soft smile, she opened her arms to receive him, to seal their bond for eternity.  
  
* * *  
  
"William, Will, William the Blood, The Scourge of Europe, Spike, my Spike, do not be afraid; come." Her voice was the wind, a siren's call to him over the roar of the storm. Arms outstretched to receive him, her entire body hummed with magic, it wafted off her in waves of colored smoke that were at once beautiful as they were terrifying. But her eyes, those kind green eyes were different now, not so kind, not so forgiving, and not so very lost; these were the eyes of a woman filled with wisdom, with compassion, and with power.  
  
And she was calling for him.  
  
A soft smile graced her lips as the winds that had once lifted her now set her gently back upon the jutting earth. The swirl of water tipped upwards on its invisible axis so that it framed her like Michaelangelo's circle, running unerringly through the earth.  
  
She flexed her fingers at him. "Spike, come to me, we are not yet finished."  
  
His feet took a step towards her. "Willow.Willow, what's happened?" The demon inside him rested behind the human vale listening intently to every word. "What's--"  
  
Suddenly her fingers, once outstretched, now fisted and her body tensed as if caught in a sudden and great grip of pain. He never even registered the movement, suddenly he was there, his strong arms wrapping around her water soaked body, pulling his mate against his chest as his legs gave out from under him and they sank to the muddy earth.  
  
Against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder and she seemed to relax. Large pale hands swept across her face, wrapping around her shoulders to draw her closer to him, needing to offer her what little shelter he could. "Willow, tell me what's happened, luv."  
  
A sigh, a gentle kiss to the underside of his chin and then her beautiful melodic voice. "I've been chosen."  
  
"What do you mean chosen?"  
  
Pale slim fingers rose to caress his bare chest as the rain continued to drive against them. "That's why you chose me Spike. That's why you brought me here. The magic chose me, and it chose you as well. But I was too damaged, too broken, too lost to find it when we first came, I needed you to show me the way. And you did, my Spike, you did." Fingertips brushed the falling rain from his cheeks as her lips parted to kiss his neck. "This is my destiny, you are my destiny. You were meant to want me, we were meant to come here, and I was meant to become what I have become."  
  
A soft smile graced her mouth as she lightly touched her own throat as if still amazed by all that she'd learned. But he was terrified, wary of this idea that they were predestined to this exact moment. "What do you mean? Who made me bring you here? What have you become?"  
  
Brilliant green eyes lifted, framed by cinnamon eyelashes. "She brought us here Spike, She made you love me, and She made sure this moment came to pass."  
  
"Who Willow? Who is this woman?" Fear made him stronger and as his hands bit into her shoulders, shaking her slightly, some part of him knew he was hurting her, despite the fact that her face remained serene.  
  
Her laugh startled him and he pulled back at the sound of genuine tinkling laughter. "Oh Spike, don't you know? Can't you feel it? Here, feel!" She reached for his hand, pulled it around and pressed his fingers against her chest, holding them as she looked up into his sapphire blue eyes once again.  
  
He felt nothing but the cold of her flesh.  
  
"Willow, I don't know what you're talking about, but your freezing. I need to get you ins--"  
  
"NO!" Her arms came up around his neck, pulling him down; holding him to her with a strength humans did not possess.  
  
Into his ear she whispered, "The ritual is not yet complete, my transformation isn't finished. I have been chosen by the magic, by the Goddess and by The Queen of Vampires. I alone will possess the magic to bring order out of chaos; I alone will be the next Blood Queen. I am the balance between good and evil, I am The Queen, one Queen to rule all other Queens. I have been chosen by the Goddess and the old Blood Queen to become the next Blood Queen, to carry the blood of Vampires and protect their destiny with justice. I will be The Queen, one Queen to rule them all."  
  
Confusion colored his words as he turned to look up at her. "Willow.there is no Blood Queen, there is no such woman. Our queens are our leaders but there is no one queen that controls all others. This isn't like that blood Rice novel with those wanker vampires."  
  
She smiled softly, like a mother gazing upon her child. "You said there was a council of vampires that came together once and learned the secret of human females, life from death, correct?" He nodded. "Spike, my Spike, who do you think formed that council? Who do you think planted the thoughts, the needs to find each other and learn such a truth?"  
  
He shook his head, the wind howling around him. "They just did, Willow. There's no one queen, only many. I know all the old stories and there is no Blood Queen, no one queen responsible for carrying the blood of vampires. There just isn't!"  
  
"Because there isn't, or because she did not wish to be known until now?"  
  
If his heart could have stopped, it would have. She was so sure, so confident in her proclamation, as if she knew something no one else knew and thought of it as some delicious secret.  
  
"Willow.how do you know all this?"  
  
Leaning forward she kissed him, her soft now blue lips pressed against his lightly as the rain continued, as lightening flashed in the distance, and as her skin continued to glow with that ethereal light.  
  
"The Goddess told me, my Spike. She gave me the power to do what I must, to rule as I must. She granted me the absolution I need to become a vampire, to give and take life as I must. She told me who and what I am, my Spike; She told me what I needed to do next."  
  
"Do.next?"  
  
A nod, "Yes. My transformation isn't complete yet, the prophecy isn't fulfilled." Once again her hand came to his cheek, caressing his flesh. "A queen is a vampire of much power Spike, an old queen has even more, but I will have more then all of them combined, and must have some form of balance."  
  
Her hands came and encircled his wrists and she smiled at him before pulling them both to the top of her bodice. He unconsciously curled his fingers under the hem. "One King to be my Mate, one King to be my Hand, and one King to be my Faith. You are my Mate, my first King, but not the only King I must have. You must guard my heart, but like you, there are two others.but you already knew this."  
  
And he did. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd known. In the old days, back when the hunt was pure and the blood ran clean, when the kill was filled with life and lust, he'd known there was a greater destiny for him.for them.  
  
"Angelus is the Hand." Her eyes locked with his, and with a nod, she confirmed his greatest hope and his greatest fear. "Angelus.he's gone, buried under the soul, there is no Angelus, only Angel. You.you can free him?" Such hope, such disgust, such uncertainty.  
  
But Willow only shook her head, tiny water droplets falling from her hair before they continued to cascade down her pale face. "No one can free Angelus of his soul, it is a necessary part of who he is and who he will become. But The Powers That Be have given him a gift more precious than the absence of his soul."  
  
Unadulterated anger coursed through him, and the demon that demanded the return of its sire, that craved the contact with one of its own pushed forward, wrapping claw like talons around Willow's shoulders, biting into her flesh and drawing blood. "There is no gift more precious than the elimination of that cursed soul! A souled demon is pathetic and weak, not worthy to be called vampire!"  
  
Unafraid, she nodded, a patient smile that showed not pain as blood flowed down her arms. "Yes, that is true, but what if the soul remained, but that which kept the demon locked in the cage were gone?"  
  
The demon growled low in its throat and beard its fangs. "The soul is the cage, destroy the soul and you free the demon."  
  
Willow shook her head. "No, the soul is the balance, the demon the evil, and guilt that which tempers the evil. It is his guilt which cages the demon, his guilt at what the demon did, filtered through the balance of his soul.  
  
"Hear me and learn," her eyes flashed with sudden power, and her smile disappeared so that the demon came to attention, listening. "Remove the guilt and the soul is but a filter on future things to come, tempered by the demon's will to reign chaos upon the world. It makes not a ruthless killer who strikes without thought of consequence, but makes a thinker, a planner, a male vampire as close to a queen as can become. His soul will make him more dangerous, more deadly than any vampire ever known. Angelus will be my King, my Hand of destruction because he is the only male vampire worthy of the Blood Queen's trust. Just as you, my Spike, are the only male vampire worthy of the Blood Queen's heart.  
  
"Do you understand? Are you able yet to see what is before you? Once my transformation is complete I will have all the necessary power to cage the first demon of the old Blood Queen. We will rule vampires across the globe and usher in a new era, a new world, because that is why the old Blood Queen has chosen to step down. We are the next generation, and the first to be strong enough to show our strength and bring order from chaos."  
  
Like salve on a burn, her words soothed the demon and his features returned to those of his human form. Angelus was among them, the demon was satisfied for now. "You.you said there were three Kings, one your Mate, that's me, one your Hand, that's Angelus, but the other, the.the Faith, who is he?"  
  
Her face suddenly fell, her eyes growing dark of their inner glow. "He is the wildcard, the unknown. He may exist or he may not, it is unclear. Until he is found I cannot be changed, I cannot receive the first demon of the Blood Queen. The King of Faith must be found before I can be turned, there must be three. You and my Hand must find him, must bring him to me." She sighed, the strength seeming to leak out of her. "He must be found my Spike, I need him. You will help me find him, won't you?"  
  
Jealousy flashed through him, but he nodded none the less, cradling her to his chest as he rocked them slowly in the pounding rain. It was almost too much to process. And in there somewhere, Angelus was once again rearing his head to take what was his. His demon warred with his thoughts, roared that Angelus was his sire, had equal claim on anything he owned, had all rights to him. But his mind ignored the demon, searching for a way to find another King to be Willow's Hand, there had to be another somewhere!  
  
"Spike?" He pulled back at her soft whisper.  
  
She looked so small and helpless cradled in his arms, the glow of magic now gone from her skin so that he could see she was nearly blue from cold and exposure. "Willow!"  
  
"Spike," she said again, her eyes focusing on his as a crash of thunder illuminated them. "The transformation must be finished, you have to help me now, Spike, I need you now."  
  
His fingers worked into her hair, brushing the clinging strands from her cheeks. "I swear to you Willow, anything you needed, anything, I will give you." He made to stand, to rise and carry her trembling body back to the house, but her fingernails breaking skin at the back of his neck stopped him.  
  
"Here Spike, it must be here. In the elements, on the land, it must be here where the Goddess can witness." She trailed off and he could see now just how exhausted she was, the effort to breathe now a conscious thought.  
  
"What do I have to do Willow, tell me so I can do it and take you inside. You'll freeze to death out here Luv, you're not divine yet!" The sarcastic end to his sentence was tempered by the sudden shivers that racked her small body. "Willow?"  
  
She tried to smile, though her teeth now chattered, making the look of love more like one of painful suffering. "You-you are the f-first King I-I must cl-claim. Y-You will m-make me when the t-time is ri-right." He nodded, wanting her to finish, needing her to give him the instructions he needed to appease the Goddess and bring his mate the shelter she needed. "I-in the wit-witness of the Goddess.you m-must cl-claim me here, n-now."  
  
He hunched his shoulders over her, trying to block as much of the freezing rain and wind as he could. "How Willow, tell me how so that I can take you inside."  
  
The nod was little more than a spasm. "Y-You m-must claim th-this body.as before."  
  
For a long moment he had no idea what she meant, and then suddenly, with a blazing poker of knowledge from the demon, he knew exactly what she meant.  
  
"Out here in the freezing rain?! I need to make love to you in the freezing rain while you die from hypothermia?! Is that goddess chit bloody stupid?!" He pulled her tightly against him, wrapping his body around her. He almost missed her words over the driving storm.  
  
"Be-bef-fore the eyes of-of the God.dess.Spike. Please." Her luscious green eyes blinked, once, then again, before rolling upwards, her body going limp in his embrace.  
  
"Bloody Hell!" He yelled over the roaring storm as the rain crashed even more forcefully against them. He turned, protecting her with his body from the directional winds as he lifted her and moved back towards the house.  
  
Rocks cut into his feet, between his toes as mud oozed up to his ankles and every step was a sound louder than the storm, but all he did was hold his mate closer to his chest and continue to climb. Her heart was slowing, he could hear it now, and while the fear raced through him he knew at once there could be no other way.  
  
Mud turned to soggy grass as he crossed onto the manicured lawns of Windemere. His direction changed as he moved towards the stables and the sound of wild horses beating against the walls. They knew. Wild animals could sense this precious gift in his arms just as his demon could. Willow, barley hanging onto life, was a gift the world could do no other than hold its breath for.  
  
The gravel driveway split the soles of his feet open, marking the fateful trail from conception to birth. Magic ran through her thin human veins, power of the highest order in its purest form. She was beyond special, beyond gifted, beyond simply human.  
  
Willow Rosenburg was touched by the very hand that formed the heavens.  
  
Just as she was touched by the very hand that formed the nine hells.  
  
With demon strength, he kicked in the stable doors, the powerful gust of wind that swept in stirred the straw to life, swirling it around the air like some sort of welcoming dance of foreboding.  
  
His first step into the stable silenced the horses. His second step deflected the wind so that the air was soft and undisturbed. His third step ignited the lanterns to give the single room the very glow of hell itself. His forth step literally blew the very roof off the wooden building.  
  
He looked up, expecting rain, sleet, the terrible wind of Irish sea storms, but there was none. The rain itself diverged, falling all around the stable building, but did not dare fall inside. The wind howled over the walls, but was forbidden to touch the lantern flames. Nothing about any of this could be real, and yet, he held the proof in his very arms.  
  
Without another though he carried her to one of the empty stables once used to house the horses of visiting dignitaries. Against a mound of dry straw he laid her, his hands immediately going to brush the soggy mass of blood red hair from her china doll face. Cinnamon eyelashes fluttered, and nearly blue lips parted in a resounding moan that immediately brought tears to the eyes of the master.  
  
She was shivering, he could see that now that he could get a good look at her. His eyes looked her over quickly, assessing as only a predator and a lover can do. He shook his head, not noticing the dozens of droplets that fell from his now dirty blond, curly hair.  
  
Strong hands moved to the bodice of her stolen dress and pulled, ripping the layers of soaking fabric down, from breast to ankle. Her skin reddened at his rough treatment of her as he freed her from the fabric. Naked and moaning with cold, he damned his silent heart and the chill of his own immortal body.  
  
Rising he moved to first Jack and then Mary's stall, neither horses gave any resistance as he stripped them of their warming blankets. He found another dark gray, wool blanket outside Willow's stall and grabbed that too, laying this one on the pile of straw beside her.  
  
Looking up, he watched the lightening flash overhead, the rain act like a living thing, avoiding the open roof of the stable. When he looked back down, it was into cloudy mint green eyes, with irises outlined in blood.  
  
"Willow?"  
  
"This will do, Spike. This will do." She said softly, her eyes focused not on him, but the heavens. One hand fluttered to her breast, and he immediately threw out one of the blankets to cover her, before rolling her slightly and lifting her into his lap. His hands rubbed back and forth, forcing heat into her ice like body.  
  
His hands were rough and unforgiving, and his voice was equally so. "You'll tell me what's going on Willow, and you'll tell me now. I don't have a sodding idea what's going on, and you're going to tell me, or so help me--"  
  
When her fingers rose to cover his lips, his first thought was that they were shaking, the second was that they were at least warming up. His ice blue eyes locked with hers, but they were the green of the fields now, no longer cloudy or blood rimmed.  
  
"I remember once, as a little girl, thinking about what it would be like to kiss my boyfriend in a stable. Later, when I got older, I imagined making love to him in one." Her eyes held him captive as her hand moved to caress his cheek. "Now I look at you, and I envision the warmth of our bed, the hard surface of those crates at the bar, the cool grass of the garden, the warm water of the bathtub, but mostly, I envision this very moment. I see us as we are, as what we're about to become. I see my love, my life, my eternity in your eyes, and none of those other things matter, the place never matters. You are my destiny, my eternal light and darkness, you are my King, my Mate, and my slave. You and I are one in the same, beings on the same path, blessed and cursed, and forever intertwined."  
  
Leaning forward she licked his lips, tasting the blood tears he hadn't known he'd shed. And as his arms came around to hold her impossibly tight, those delicate fingers ran down the hard expanse of his chest before wrapping around the evidence of his terror, love, and lust for her.  
  
His eyes closed in a sudden moment of sexual euphoria. "Willow."  
  
Warm lips slid over his neck. "You are my salvation." She breathed, her teeth gracing his flesh. "You are my hope." She whispered, warm breath caressing his neck. "You are my heart, my choice, my desire, my need. You," she slid forward, her legs shifting, moving, encircling his hips, "Are my King of Hearts."  
  
As she slid onto him, the rain ceased, the wind quieted, and the storm dissipated. Only the howl of completion, of union, of the merge could be heard, for miles, and miles, and miles. 


	20. Prologue: Growing Blaze

Epilogue: Growing Blaze  
  
Angel opened at the first knock and nodded once to the Watcher before stepping back and allowing him to enter.  
  
Returning the nod, Giles passed over the threshold of the mansion and moved aside so Angel could close the door. He cleared his throat and resisted the urge to take his glasses off and clean them. "You spoke of a favor Angel, what can I do to help you?"  
  
He could smell the fear, taste it in the air, but he couldn't blame the young man--old man by mortal standards. He smiled to try to ease the Watcher's discomfort. "Thank you for coming, I know it's late, but I made my decision and I need to get going."  
  
With that he turned and walked deeper into the dark house, his ears catching the long suffering sigh of his guest, and the stead heartbeat of his lover upstairs.  
  
Xander was still asleep.  
  
"Yes well, whatever it is that you're planning on doing, I'd most appreciate knowing what it is I'm here for, if you don't mind." The Brit. took off his glasses then and began to clean them, acting casual while knowing full well he was fooling no one.  
  
Angel smiled again. There was a time the fear would have been intoxicating, maybe to a part of him it still was, but that part was tempered now by the weight of his soul. Instead he sat in the high back chair by the roaring fire to allow the Watcher higher ground. "I'm leaving tonight to find Drusilla." He said calmly.  
  
Rupert nearly dropped his glasses. "Y-Your what?! Angel, are you insane? What possible need could you have for reuniting with that mind witch?" Anger and fear ran deep, but for the time being Angel could sense that the anger would prevail.  
  
His answer was nonchalant. "If I can find Dru, I can find Spike and Willow." Spike, he thought, before pressing forward after a half second. "I can find Willow and bring her to Xander. He did better when he knew he could talk to her, you know that Watcher. He's nearly lost now, in himself, wherever that might be. To bring him back I have to bring back Willow, and to do that, I need to find Spike, and finding Spike is as easy as finding Drusilla." He smirked to himself. "She hasn't exactly made finding her a difficult task, to be sure."  
  
For a moment the room was silent, and then Angel watched as Rupert moved to the other side of the massive room and poured himself a shot of cold brandy. He threw it back before pouring another and repeating the process. On the third pour, he carried it back to the hearth and set it to warm.  
  
With his back to the vampire, he spoke his mind for the first time. "Alexander Harris is none of your concern. You're a vampire, no matter how much you'd like to be a human. The curse prevents you from continuing on this quest, Angel." He paused, gathering his strength. "It doesn't take a fool to understand how you feel about him. The Watcher Diaries are quit prolific about your life with Spike and Drusilla, and your many.preferences. However, the demon Angelus cannot be allowed to roam free again. Such irresponsibility will only damn Xander even further than he--"  
  
In one blink, Angel was beside him. "You know already, Rupert, don't try to pretend. You've known since it happened, I think." He paused, looking into eyes that had seen to much for a man as young as Rupert Giles. "Xander isn't in any danger from me and you know it. He's mine, Rupert, and I take care of what belongs to me."  
  
Anger flashed and made smart men brave, as Rupert took a step forward, closing the distance between a Watcher and a Master Vampire. "Take care of him? Take care of him? Like you took care of Spike when he was injured? Don't be daft, Angelus. I don't know what kind of deal you made with the Powers That Be, no matter what it was it didn't give you a free pass to forget the past. You abandoned Spike, you're lover for more than fifty years so that you could play with the slayer and your loony pet of a Childe Drusilla. You left him a cripple until he turned against you and managed your demise. That's not how you "take care of what belongs to" you, that's how you break a spirit. I refuse to allow you to break Xander's even more than it already is. Leave him, Angelus, leave the boy and go find your precious Drusilla. Find the whore and wait, there will come one day, a Slayer so great that not even you will be able to destroy her. It's a day I eagerly wait for."  
  
Neither looked away, and both sets of blue eyes dance with more than the simple flame of the fireplace. The air crackled with temper and rage, sizzled with frustration and hatred. Vengeance was a living thing in that room of ancient splendor. But it died quickly, and without fanfare as Angelus, The Scourge of Europe, turned in shame and sank back into his chair.  
  
"I made a deal that's true. I help the Slayer, I lose the curse. But the Powers are more than a little tricky, Rupert. The curse lifted, and with it went the guilt that comes with the senseless deaths of thousands of innocent human beings. It fell away from me like a weight I've been carrying for a hundred years." He looked up, and Rupert gasped at the soul that danced behind his eyes. "The guilt and the curse are gone, but the soul remains, filtering the demon as all souls filter the demons that live in all mankind. I'm still a vampire, but I'm human as well."  
  
A long pause filled the room, as Angelus looked at his hands, watching, examining, as he flexed his fingers. "I'm the man I would have become had I been given the chance to grow out of wine and women while still alive. I was a boy when I was turned, and now a man sits here before you. Aged, learned, wise to the natures of the world." He looked up, smirking in a way that nearly three hundred years ago would have caused quite a stir. "The scoundrel still lives in me, make no mistake about that, but I'm more than that, more than a mere vampire, more than even a human. I'm free, and here, and I plan to make the best of the life I've been given."  
  
He rose and moved to pour his own drink. "I won't lie to you, Rupert, I'll kill to feed just as I have these last two months. It's the nature of a vampire to do so. But I respect life in a way I cannot explain to you because you haven't lived long enough to understand. There is no need to kill the innocent when there are so many who deserve to die. I'll hunt them when I can, and take what I need when I can't. I'll live by the law of nature, tempered with the wisdom of man."  
  
Turning, he stared down the Watcher. "I was insane with rage and disgust when I abandoned Spike. I was petty and stupid, and my actions caused his betrayal. But understand this, Watcher, he is my Childe, my blood.  
  
"I'll find him, make him understand what happened, and I'll reclaim my boy once and for all." Suddenly the fight and conviction seemed to drain out of him, and Rupert watched as the master's shoulders rounded in defeat. "All fathers make mistakes, Watcher, vampires are no different. But it's time, time to put my family back together again. It's time to find my boy and bring him home."  
  
The defeated look gave Rupert courage. "What about Willow?" His heart clenched at the pain-ridden look Angelus gave him. He shook his head. "Spike is in love with Willow, and she with him. You said so yourself, the bond between them is strong. As much as you love Spike--and I have no doubt that you do--what about what he wants? What if he no longer wants you, Angelus?"  
  
The fire popped and the logs shifted and settled before Angelus rose and crossed to the doorway of the room and the only way out. From behind one of the chairs he pulled out a small overnight bag. "I'll be gone for two days, one to get there and talk to Drusilla and one to return. Watch Xander for me, he'll be frightened without me here. Tell him I'm coming back for him, that I'll be back in two days with a way to find Willow. Tell him." he trailed off, his heart tight in his chest.  
  
Rupert's voice was tight. "I'll tell him that you love him, if you tell me the truth, Angelus, the whole truth."  
  
Angel's spin straightened, the muscles in his body tensing. "The truth, Watcher, is that I'm going to find Drusilla and make her tell me where Spike is, where he's keeping Willow. Then I'm coming back here to get Xander and I'm going to take him wherever they are. Once there I'll convince Spike that his place is with me, as my Childe--as my family."  
  
Desperation seeped into Rupert's voice as he called across the room. "What about, Willow? What about Xander who you profess to love?"  
  
The man that turned around was half man, half monster. "Willow belongs to Spike, Watcher, therefore she belongs to me. She, like Xander will become part of my family as they have every right to be. My family will be whole again, I'll accept nothing less then that."  
  
* * *  
  
She was sitting in the full sun of the solar when he found her, curled up on the black leather couch daydreaming out the window. Her hair was nearly past her waist now, but she had it pinned up against the back of her head to keep from overheating. Her skin was still deathly pale, but he knew no amount of sun would ever change that. She wasn't vampire, but she wasn't human either, instead she was a witch, infused with the power of the Goddess and magic itself.  
  
She shifted slightly, the sunlight illuminating the rosy color of her nipples and highlighting the tight cinnamon curls below her waist.  
  
Every now and again she took his blood. Not enough to change her, but enough to keep her senses heightened. It was his gift to her, a way she could allow her still human body to match the requirements the magic placed on her.  
  
Since that night she'd changed, and yet remained as timeless as ever. There was ageless power behind her voice, and antiquity behind her words. She was an odd blend of new and old, playing in the garden like a child, and praying with the reverence of the blessed to the Goddess.  
  
Occasionally she'd talk about The Queen, hints that the time was not right to go to her for the final change. Sometimes she'd bring up Angelus, her King of Hands, and then wisely leave him alone to fight his own painful demons. Only once did she mention her King of Faith, but the topic seemed to cause her great pain and he chose wisely not to bring it up again.  
  
In all she was different, and yet the same, still struggling with the same heartbreaking issues of youth and inexperience, but rising quickly, empowered to become the woman she was always meant to be. It was this empowerment he was here to talk about.  
  
He cleared his throat even though he was aware she already knew he was there. He watched her smile and turn slowly from the window, shifting her left leg to lay flat against the leather, outlining her creamy body. Her left hand drifted to rest temptingly against her stomach in a gesture used by so many woman to protect their unborn children. Her other hand rose slightly, and with a wave of her fingertips, the curtains drew themselves closed and the candles burst to life, changing the harsh light of the sun into the seductive glow of a temptress.  
  
"Yes?" She smiled, that knowing grin so alive, so full of desire, lust, need, only for him, always for him.  
  
He crossed the carpet silently, his dark charcoal pants whispering as he slid onto the couch, his hip touching hers. One hand came down to cover the one at her abdomen and he smiled as he leaned forward to kiss those strawberry lips.  
  
"I have a surprise for you, Luv. Something I think you'll very much enjoy." His hand rose higher, his thumb caressing the underside of her full breast as he watched her close her eyes at the contact; her body unconsciously arching into his touch.  
  
Her first breath was little more than a silent moan, the second brought forth her words. "I do love surprises, and if you say I'll enjoy this one, I have no doubt that I will." She smiled, her lips parting just slightly to show white teeth.  
  
Leaning forward he coaxed her lips further, this tongue tasting her, making her mew for more than just the tasting. When he pulled back, her skin was flushed, her breaths erratic, and her eyes, those gorgeous dark green eyes that smoldered with need were upon him and would not let go.  
  
He nodded, holding her gaze and listening to her heart beat increase even more. "A trip, a vacation. A romantic get away to the sin capital of the world. A place where you can literally feel evil as old as time itself. A place of lies and demons, and the largest hell mouth the world has ever created."  
  
Her eyes were round and her smile broadened as her hand came up to touch his cheek before circling round to pull him down for another mimicking kiss. "Where, beloved? Where could such a place exist that it would draw you so much?"  
  
Smiling, he kissed her once more before lifting her into his arms and carrying her back to their bedroom. "Oh, it's a lovely place, pet, simply a lovely place. You'll love the irony right away. And best of all, there's someone special I want you to meet; an old friend of mine."  
  
As he settled her in the center of the massive bed, looked down at her surrounded by black velvet and blood red sheets, her hair fanned out about her in a hallow of righteous hell, he smiled and allowed her to enfold him in her welcoming arms.  
  
* * *  
  
"ROME, MY ANGEL, THEY GO TO ROME!!!" The shriek was earsplitting as Angelus held her against the stucco wall by her throat, ignoring the chaos demons that milled about the seedy Mexican bar.  
  
He snarled at Drusilla, his fangs poised to strike at his insane Childe. "Why would they be goin' to Rome, Dru? Spike's hated that place since we first got there, never wanted to go back. Why would he be takin' her there?"  
  
When she didn't immediately answer, he pulled her back before smashing her head against the wood, hearing a sicken crush that was either her head or the wooden wall--either way he felt satisfied. Her eyes were desperate when she looked at him, a pleading he hadn't seen in over a hundred years, eyes that told him, she was truly afraid. "He's taking the tree there to meet the sins of righteousness. He's taking her there to learn to control the gifts."  
  
Angelus snarled once again. "What gifts? Answer me, Drusilla, or daddy will be even more angry than he is right now." He shook her and watched her eyes roll like marbles in a jar.  
  
"The little tree has many gifts now, my angel. She's not a broken dolly anymore. She's the favorite of the ball and the stars shine brightly on her so that she glows with the blessings of the moon." Dark lashes fluttered as she fought to remain conscious, and with disgust, Angelus dropped her, letting her body and flowery skirts fall to a heap on the dirt ground.  
  
Stepping forward, he squatted down and lifted her chin with one finger, his eyes locking and holding hers as she struggled to sit up, only to find strength failing her. She was weak, and she disgusted him. She was supposed to take care of Spike and instead he'd had to care for her. She was supposed to love his Childe, and instead she betrayed him, broke him--just like he'd broken William.  
  
Damn her to the deepest of hells!  
  
"Willow's got magical talent, so I'm assuming that's what you mean by gifts." Suddenly she nodded emphatically, and he smiled at her out of habit. "Good lass, very good, except William hasn't got a single magical bone in his body, which begs the question, why he'd be takin' her to Rome."  
  
Encouraged, Drusilla smiled and made a show of straightening her hair and dress before looking back up at him. "My angel is very, very smart, he is. Miss Edith told me a secret about the little tree that makes my Spike crow up, up, up!" She leaned forward and whispered, "She says that Spike takes her to see the White Queen. She says that the little tree is more than White or Black or Blue or Yellow, she says to me while we watch the stars and dance, that the little tree is right now Red, but is becoming The. She says," the vampiress giggled, "that the stars sing of change. Of the The that will bring the change, and the three Kings that will protect her. She says, my angel, that soon, all the stars in heaven will go out, that the sun will soon stop rising, and that it will be our turn soon, very, very soon."  
  
To most it was senseless babble, but to Angelus it was more than that. Drusilla never gave a prediction that didn't come true. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead before pulling back and caressing her hair, watching her lean into the touch. When he finally chose to speak it was with quite and soothing tones. "What has she become, Drusilla? What has Willow become?"  
  
"The Queen, my angel, The Blood Queen. One Queen to rule them all. She has become, Death."  
  
____________________________________________________________________________ __________  
  
And that's the end of Whispered Fire. I want to thank everyone that has stuck with me these last--oh my goodness--five years while I struggled to get this story out. It's not my plan or my intention to make anyone wait quite this long for the rest of the stories in this trilogy. I hope you enjoyed the story, and I really hope you have a great time with the rest.  
  
The Fire Trilogy has three parts with Growing Blaze the name of the next installment. Below is a Growing Blaze preview.  
  
Growing Blaze  
  
Willow has been chosen by the Goddess and the old Blood Queen to become The Queen of Vampires, the new Blood Queen, responsible for carrying the blood of the vampires and ushering in a new era for vampires everywhere. However, she can't quite do that yet. Balance requires her to form a counsel of males called Kings. The first is her King of Hearts and the only one who has claimed her--Spike, her mate and lover. Second is her King of Hands, none other than Angelus, who himself is currently searching for Spike and Willow in a desperate bid to bring his family back together. Finally, she must find her King of Faith, a mystery that causes Willow great pain as she searches for him. Yet in the midst of all of this searching, Willow must find a way to learn about her own new powers, gifts from the Goddess, which have the power to destroy as much as build. This is a story about family, discovery, and the desperation that comes from love, friendship, and destiny. 


End file.
